Inquiry into Addiction Services…

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

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

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

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

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

Please read. Please support. Please have your say.

—————————————————-

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

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

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

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

SIGN FOR A SYSTEM CHANGE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This menu includes:

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

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

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

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

ADD YOUR NAME

Thanks for all you do,

Mary O’Hagan 
Director of PeerZone

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Outside the Realm of the Hungry Ghosts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

addiction_tattoos_big

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

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

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

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

This latest addiction could just kill me. 

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

banshee_crap

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

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

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

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

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

My happiness deficit will diminish with the use of drugs. 

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

Recently I have been in jail

I have been in jail for a short while, true.

Would love to have enough energy for the bother of converting the badly hand written dairy entries into something worthy of posting on this, the worlds shittest blog.

No energy can be spared. As I type this nearing 1am, the one eye is shut. The other thinks it saw a mouse scurry around the skirting. It may have. It may not have. There is little food in the house, so if  there was a mouse, who cares? There are large stabs from the dull knife of mental pain.

The brain does not differentiate from physical pain and mental pain awfully well. Thankfully there is more than enough of both that the borders between the two are blurred. More than blurred – the effect where the cold southern ocean and the warm waters from equatorial pacific conjoin in a lovers embrace more sums up my existence within my 182cm, 81kg frame.

Jail is full of characters. Some very intelligent people whom are waiting trail for murdering some idiot.

One guy whom represented his country at war (a few steps above FIFA under twenty ALL WHITES for commitment) has a bullet wound or two. His two mates got killed each side of him. He was found unconscious by an American patrol. He had pulled his side arm and killed two people whom were intent on finishing him off. He came home to good old John Key’s New Zealand and ACC was too hard to deal with. WINZ weren’t helpful once he was out of hospital. His Dad died. His shot leg and head injuries cause a bit of issue. The shrapnel thrown off by the grenade that cost one friend the entire left side of his brain, skull and upper torso is throughout his body. He is in jail for robbing TV’s, stereos and jewellery from richer people than he. Some of them probably know John Key. Some of them definitely would know (or were) Military brass types. 

I have the book rights. Thankfully for the world when you leave me in a cell with two or three people for an hour they will talk to me about PTSD, ADHD, DYSLEXIA, PSYCHOPATHY and, arguably, worse than the whole lot – ISSUES WITH THE MISSUS AND KIDS.

Addiction, mental health, bad luck….. To study inmates and their issues you really need to be an inmate. I have crazy stupid tattoo’s. I have few teeth. I have just enough intelligence to keep up with the clever and encourage the not quite so. Just like running the Mental Health unit Narcotics Anonymous meeting, I can not only empathise, but identify with these people and their plights.

There are some real stories there. Stories your average reporter would not find. Links between being locked up and your ex partner seeing you with a hotter young lady are obvious. But when you have been split up for ten years the Courts will laugh it this. I believe it. For I have had one or two myself.

deadbeat

 

After spending six weeks in jail throughout May and early June, I am sorry to report staggering examples of Police ruining peoples chances at life by spreading information unlawfully.

It could be considered worse than unlawful, for it is criminal.

 
 
 
 
FRIDAY, APRIL 10th.

 
After being told there was “no warrant to arrest” on a charge in the District Court I went home with my 11 year old daughter. 
 
One hour later the police arrived, arrested me in front of my daughter and told me that we would be half an hour whilst they filled out paperwork. I left daughter with a friend. As soon as I was in their car they told me I would be there overnight as the court had shut for the day although it was 1pm….
 
Against my express wishes they rung my daughters mother and told her all about me being in trouble and being arrested. I specifically told them that they had no right to tell someone else about my arrest and that my daughter had her own phone, knew how to contact her mother, grandma and other people.
 
They went on to furnish their story stating that I had left my child in the care of someone they considered untrustworthy. My daughter has stayed with these people before, and has slept overnight there with the couples daughter whom is only a month or two older.
 
The mother of my daughter picked our daughter up at 8pm, which shows she was unconcerned about any threat to our child. 
 
The police also tried to ring her new partner at work and tell him about it. Although he has never met me properly and has no say in the day to day care of myself our my child, the Police exaggerated the circumstances and generally made the situation into something it should not be. 
 
I was released the next morning about 10am and the mother of my daughter was obviously not in the least happy.
 
 
 
TUESDAY, APRIL 28th.
 
For the first time ever my kids Mum and her partner came to football training. I am the football team coach, and have been for two years with three different teams. 
 
My child’s mother took our daughter early and was perceived to be looking for trouble by other parents. Subsequently to this, the mother of my daughter punched me five times in front of many witnesses.
I carried on playing football with the children and tried to handle the situation. Her new partner rung police after he pushed me and had decided that I was assaulting his new partner. She stands at the side of the field and shouts abuse, including that I am a paedophile and should not be allowed around children. 
 
 

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 29th

 
I presented at Wellington Central Police station to tell them about the mother of my daughter hitting me five times in front of the child’s football team and parents at football training. Officer {**18} told me directly that “you (I) are full of shit and that matter has already been dealt with“. 
 
I recorded the conversation from that point on. The matter already “being dealt with” was basically them trying to find a way to stuff me with something. The facts are that I was assaulted by two people in front of fifteen children and many parents during our football team training.
 
 
 
FRIDAY, MAY 1st


Police came to my house in some numbers and charged me with assault by way of issuing a paperwork summons to appear in court. Why they needed so many officers and why they acted so aggressively is obvious – They were trying to get me angry and acting badly so there would be a proper excuse for another arrest and charge – resisting, disorderly behaviours or similar. 

After being charged with assault they rang the football club I was coaching for and told them that under no circumstances should I be allowed to coach football. I do not know what is being said, by whom. I do know that the football club is run by two ex Navy accountant types whom are probably good friends with the higher up Police… Maybe they all sit down at the Wellesley together and discuss issues. Maybe I was worthy of thirty seconds of their time as they nudge nudged and guffawed…

 
EMAIL FROM “L”TO ME, 3rd June 2015…
 
“””Dear NZFIEND
I am writing to you with regard to your role as a volunteer coach for the Grade 11 _________________ AFC.
In my role as Chairman of the club I have received communications from Capital Football and the NZ Police that I am now burdened with acting upon. The advice I have received is that the club should not employ you in a volunteer role as a junior coach. While I am not in receipt of detail as to specific circumstances it is incumbent upon me to heed this advice because regardless of any possible militating factors the club cannot take any risk in regard to the way it manages pastoral care for junior members through volunteers.
As a result it is with regret that I must now let you know that your volunteer coaching role must end, effective immediately. I understand that the coaching you have carried out for the club has been enjoyed by the children in the teams with which you have been associated, and I thank you for the contribution you have made.
Regards
LS – CEO of the AFC“””
 
 

I have asked three times in writing for information regarding WHO rung the club and WHAT was said, but have not even received an acknowledgement of my request. I guess this is what you should expect from a bunch of high ranking military people and police.

If I am accused of being a paedophile or a danger to children, I WANT TO KNOW! I now have to use official information act and / or privacy act requests to find out what is being said, and whom is saying it.

Louis appears to have secret discussions with police…At the time of my ex partner getting ME arrested for assault, I sent her some text messages and commented on some of her Facebook photos with what I thought of her partner pushing me, trying to get me to fight him, and then ringing police when I didn’t take the bait.

 
 
 
SATURDAY, MAY 2nd 
 
The police sent me texts and phone calls saying they want to speak to me at odd hours like 6am. I replied by text and voice call to a voicemail asking them why they wished to see me again. Also, quite clearly, I asked if it was urgent and what they wanted. They said “come in and see us urgently” but would not explain why. I declined to take up their nice offer as I had a football team to run and was due in Porirua at 8.30am. Last time they told me I would only be an hour “at the most” I was kept overnight and my daughter is now very perturbed when she see’s police. My daughter also jumps when there is a knock on the door and is worried the Police are coming to take Dad away. Anyway – Our team played well and we got a 3-3 draw. The best result the team has had, ever.
 
 
 
MONDAY, MAY 4th
 
Police have been coming to my house every few hours throughout the weekend and the neighbours have been interviewed and are getting annoyed by Police waking them up by kicking on my door. I have been elsewhere. Being happy and entertaining.
 
At approximately 8pm I am walking home and see a Police car drive past me a few times and park half a block from my house. I got the shop, buy some things and walk out as the car drives off again
 

At 9pm I received a text from a member of the football club saying that my daughter will not be part of the team any further as her Mum is taking her out of the team and not allowing me to see her. I send a text to my childs Mum…

4 May 21:31
Idiot.
Let ***** [our daughter] play football, she loves it.
About time you started doing what was right for the whole family we have, not just yourself.
You need to talk, but you ran across a field screaming like a stupid crazed animal and punched me 6 times.
You are stupidly carrying on [like] this.
 – direct copy of txt from cellphone
 

The neighbours come out to tell me the Police were there again. At approximately 9:35 pm I am talking to a lady police officer on the telephone whom says “MAN UP AND FACE THE CHARGES.” What charges? What are you on about? “BREACH OF PROTECTION ORDERS”

TUESDAY, MAY 5th


So, in the Police station, we have a video interview at 1am. I have been awake quite a lot with worry about the situation with my child and also have spent a couple of nights in others beds, so I am worn out and very tired. 
 
It comes as a surprise when I am kept in a court cell for the whole morning waiting for my appearance. I stand in the dock and find the Police are objecting to bail and want me in custody. I have not properly at all (the police have no pillows and since my clothing had string in it around the hood of the “hoody” top, they had removed those – it was cold, there is no bedding other than a cover that extends from feet to belly button. I was due to be at football training at 3:30pm and that is something to b taken very seriously. Letting down a bunch of kids – some of whom come straight from school so would be their unsupervised – by having their coach abandon them is a bloody serious thing.
 
The “Public Defendants Office” Lawyer told me that there is no way I could bail today and that “in these situations we keep you in for three or four days and let things cool off and then you will get bail on Friday.” She repeated this later with “Tony, we simply have you on a cool off period for a few days and then you will be bailed. Just do not apply for bail today.” I was charged with 5 BREACH OF PROTECTION ORDERS for sending some five text messages after she punched me repeatedly with children (including our own child) watching. The protection order has been in place 13 years. If I had so much as raised my voice at this person during 13 years I would have been charged with a breach already, yet Police claim in court I have been threatening and abusing and repeatedly and consistently disrupting the lives of my daughter and her mothers new family. One of these offences is the above text message, which is claimed to be ranting, abusive and threatening.
 
I told her I did not want her “legal” advice and represented myself. Bail was denied, even though the judge made many errors including deciding that I had committed “male assaults female” against the mother of my daughter last year. I have never, once, assaulted the mother of my daughter. Full stop.


The Police have lied the whole way through in order to keep me in jail. I was going to write exaggerated, as there are plenty of examples of that. But actual lies sum it up better…

The Police state that I knew they were searching for me, that I was actively running from them and they had to catch me. They state, in court documents, that I was actively hiding and taunting Police. I was, according to them, abusive to officers and was showing off that they could not catch me.. However, I had rung police every single day for four days and they would not tell me why they wanted me. I have told them about being assaulted and I thought that they may be serving me with Family Court papers. They finally told me what they wanted (breach of protection order for texting) and I told them to come and pick me up. In the end I had to jump out in front of the car and flag it down as they were driving straight past me. Yet the judge heard I was “evading and taunting police”.

I have recorded all these telephone conversations with Police and kept all text records.

 
I was sent to Rimutaka prison with a new court date for Friday 8th.
 
 
 
FRIDAY, MAY8th
I had stolen a black ballpoint pen and got a nice guard to give me a bit of paper from one of the computer printers and drew a picture. It shows my hand and my demons being pulled out of the mire by my daughters hand. Although, you can turn the picture upside down and see that me and my past demons and lifestyle are trying to help her out of some pain and difficulties. Call it a mental health exercise…
P119
 


After spending all day in a small cell out the back of Court1, Wellington District Court, I finally appeared at around 4pm. The Police were serious on keeping me in custody. The lawyer, KEITH JEFFERIES, proved to be the worst lawyer I have ever met. He did not come to see me with regards to the matter even though Police had given me new paperwork and what have you. He therefore stood up and even the Police prosecutor said “Keith is probably not aware, but here is the latest stuff….”
I tried to enter a GUILTY PLEA to sending text messages so that they would have no further reason to hold me in custody.
 
The Judge said that I needed time to consult and instruct a real lawyer and remanded me in Custody until JUNE 25th for this to happen.
 
About this point in time I realised my football coaching was over and that there was little hope of being a proper father to my child for a long time. My rent and bills were starting to worry me and I stood to lose my flat, its contents and my car parked in the off street parking that comes with the rental. 
 
 
 
TUESDAY, JUNE 11th
 
Other inmates told me I should go for “e-bail” and I had filled the paperwork out. 
 

The Police opposed my release from jail (even though I am 24/7 on ankle bracelet locked in my flat) as they claim the victims are so scared. These are the same people whom attacked me in the first instance. There was no fear shown there.

The Police also opposed my release on the grounds I would destroy cell phone evidence. Vodafone, 2Degrees and Spark could all track the texts if they were asked. Also, the texts would still be on the phone I sent them to. The Police wanted me to hand them my phone. I need my phone for evidence. It has recordings of the Police lying to me. It has recordings of the mother of my daughter screaming at me telling me I would never see my daughter again. She claims I would ring her and be threatening, ranting, screaming and abusive. These calls are all recorded and I have told the Police this. They constantly tell the Court that I am a threat to the safety of others based on the “facts” that I am so abusive and threatening on the phone and texts.
 
I was led into court room 1 (directly from the back of a Corrections Department prisoner transport van) just as the Judge was reading out conditions of my release. They include 24/7 home detention. My lawyer had rung or talked to me, as he had promised, and had therefore not put forward the fact I live by myself in a housing block. He had not put forward the best case for my release at all and had not read the file, nor the handwritten notes I had sent regarding the perceived threat and safety of the text message victims. There is no provision in my bail for me to leave the house to get shopping. If I leave the house I will go straight back to Rimutaka jail. To go to doctors, hospital or other appointments I need 24 notice. I am wearing a GPS ankle bracelet.
 
At least I still have a house. There was paperwork taking me to the tenancy tribunal over unpaid rent, but that is now okay. I am not allowed to the carpark where my car is in order to clean it out or move it as it has been sitting across two car parks since my arrest.
 
I needed to get out of jail as I have hand written fifty pages of rebuttal of allegations submitted to the Family Court which removes my parenting order and denies me all contact with my 11 year old daughter. I need to type these up, collect evidence from my phone (including all texts and voice recordings) and convince the Corrections Electronic Monitor Bail “TEAM” that I need to go into town, print out court paperwork, find a J.P or someone who can witness and sign the stuff, and then present it all to the court in Balance St. 
 
The Police would not lay charges against the lady whom stabbed my tyres and destroyed my car as “she said she was elsewhere” even though three neighbours provided excellent descriptions of her and her friend. The Police showed up with a page of photos of girls, all of whom was so similar to the offender that none of the witnesses could positively I.D them. The Police have denied my requests to view and copy the I.D parade they provided. I doubt  it even had a photo of the real offenders on it. So, they tell me their case “does not reach evidential standard” on a number of issues.
…..

Until all of this happened I was seeing my daughter, was being as good father as I was allowed to be. We had a Family Court Order that intended we work together and move forward by ourselves after ten years of bickering. It had taken me a year and a half to go from every second weekend with my daughter to having Tuesday nights as well as every second weekend. Whenever the mother of daughter felt like it, she would take away this Tuesday night as “I only gave it as a good will gesture”. What effect does this have on our daughter? What effect does all of this have on me?

 

DEAD BEAT DAD’s have something going for them…

They get to keep a tenuous link to reality.  

Even if they are in Australia,
not seeing their children
&
hiding from the NZ tax man.

Talking publicly may help. Other ways probably not so much…

Mr. Boulware was also involved in a custody battle with his mother over his 11-year-old son. A hearing was held last Monday. Ms. Hammond said in court documents that in the fall of 2012, Mr. Boulware “talked obsessively” about the mass shootings at the movie theater in Aurora, Colo., and at the elementary school in Newtown, Conn. “He claimed,” she wrote in court papers, “he had known about them beforehand because he had dreamed about them.” She also stated that he bought two new guns in 2013 and “began talking about getting rid of people he didn’t like.” NEW YORK TIMES <- click here….


That bloody mouse was real. Has taken twenty five minutes for my cloudy head to compile this post… The mouse, I feel, is laughing at me. Having sauntered across the side of my vision heading into my bedroom, it has had it’s fill of whatever mouse culinary delights abound within and jogged back, converting whatever protein it found into pure lean muscle mouse.

penfold

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

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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.

 

 

You know that glue sniffer alcoholic from a couple of posts ago… Well…

PACMAN PEOPLE TATTOO

Whilst I was there, babysitting her drug overdose attempts, (click here) I could not help but notice I was sitting on an overturned home stereo speaker. She has a mattress on the floor. She has no furniture. Yet she does have an ankle bracelet that does not allow her to remove herself from the premises.

Sucks to be her.

Walked around the front of the housing block just now to see if she was there. Her windows were open, so I walked up the stairs.

“HOLY SHIT, IT’S YOU

Yes, it is me

“Holy Crap, sorry about the other night, I was… Ueeerrrr….”

Really fucked up and using heaps of glue?

“Ueeeeerrr… Yeah…..”

Hey, all good. You want a couch and a seat or what?

“Fucken Aye bro. Thought you were full of shit.

Nah, I have a large three, two and one seater on the roof of my car. Been there for ten days now. Looks like it might rain, so better move them off the roof…

“Choice bro. Fucken unreal. You’re not kidding me?

No, I will be back in a couple of minutes.

“I would come help, but I can’t leave the whare(*) aye bro”
(pointing at ankle bracelet)

Yeah, all good… See you in a minute.

 The most amazing thing about this exchange was she remembered me at all. She remembered I told her had a couch for her was therefore not that amazing. Amazingly, although completely nuts and abusing every mind numbing substance known to man, she looked at me clear eyed and she honestly looked as though she remembered all the good things we had shared between the bouts of conscience killing “rest periods.”

So looked at me with respect, tolerance and knowledge. 

This may have been as I treated her with respect, tolerance and shared knowledge with her that night when babyshitting her.

I did not tell her we had met before. Nor will I tell you. 

This is the only trickle down effect that the worlds economists will ever find true…

Second hand furniture, car parts and clothes.

Without them, the global economy would be totally full of shit.

Couch on Ford Futurlane

Found a guy to help me carry the stuff up to her flat. Would only just fit up stairs and through door. Did not tell the guy I had skinned a knuckle and cut my thumb. He was only helping me, and I was only helping someone else. Did not seem correct to complain about him pushing when he should have been pulling. Even if it did make me wince.

You see, this girl really appreciated this. She probably didn’t even appreciate the couch and chair as much as she appreciated someone doing what they said and not “being full of shit aye bro”.

She looked so fucken grateful.

You can take all your “boundaries” and “ethics” and shove them.

Upon leaving she frowned. I walked back and brushed the frown off with a stroke of a finger on her forehead.

You cannot do that as a registered counsellor or other professional employed in such a capacity without some rather dodgy charges being laid… 

For me, it was worth it. Seeing the frown replaced with a smile and a warm goodbye is okay.

My boundaries are declining to tell her my name, flat number or contact details.

See –

I am learning. Has taken a hell of a fuck up or two. But it is am learning. Even evolution.

(*)
WHARE a Māori hut or dwelling place
pron far-ee (kind of – you roll the R into an L a little… Far-le…. Sort of.

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

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

All this takes a back seat.

It all takes a back seat to life. 

 

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

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

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

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

  • Fuck yous

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

  • FUCK YOUS

Etc. Etc. Etc.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She had moments of superb thought and clarity…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I left not giving a flying fuck what anyone thought…

I left proud of the idiot I am.

 

 

We are all back seat drivers in our own life.

Pity I am not even in the right car.

 

 

….

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