Very depressed, giving up, dying, watching TRUE DETECTIVE and my high higher power….

Have been so depressed lately. Mentioning possibilities of, or the proximities to, self harm or suicidal thoughts would get me in trouble with the people whom I always say “NO” to.

HINT FOR NEW USERS —
** always say no to all questions regarding anything to do with hearing voices, having suicidal thoughts, having been committed to any institution or having been a drug addict.
JUST SAY NO

I walked to probation expecting to be shafted. The lady who saw me was very dubious at first, but I played her a couple of telephone recordings that had been made between myself and the mother of my daughter. The probation lady looked at me in a new light. There is a long story about this meeting to be written, but will reduce it to – FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE HANDING MYSELF IN TO POLICE TWO AND A HALF MONTHS AGO AND BEING IN JAIL, SOMEONE WITH A REAL SAY AS TO MY FUTURE LISTENED TO ME.

My lawyer, Val Nisbett, has been completely class A fucken USELESS. He expects to be paid a lot of money. WHAT ON EARTH FOR? Piss off Val, you are proving yourself worthy of trailing in your kids Mums wake as she heads up the capitalist law ladder.

I talked with this nice probation lady for over two hours. Did warn her that we may need a whole day. For the first time I talked about the role my beautifully hearted young lady friend had in the situation. The probation lady was astounded, and probably thought maybe she should have ticked the boxes for me “hearing voices” and having “irrational thoughts” after all.

This young lady (call her Legs) legged it away from Wellington mid April as she was having addiction issues of her own. She rung me when I was at the mother of my daughters house. The mother of my daughter heard me talking to her, heard me being very understanding and supportive. Heard me being a very nice and thoughtful person. Upon showing the mother of my daughter a photo of the girl concerned, there was an instant pang of some odd chemical smashing it’s way through my head. OOOOPS. There was a spark of something there. My kids Mum … well …. MAYBE I SHOULD NOT HAVE SHOWN HER THAT DAMN PHOTO. 

Upon arriving home from probation at 1:40, and having been talking and thinking hard about “Legs” half an hour earlier…. There was NO SURPRISE AT ALL when GMAIL showed me she had emailed me at 1:27. Legs, to my knowledge, did not even know my email address.

Somewhat shamefully, we have sent and received 66 emails since. Some of mine have been five thousand words. Some of hers have made more sense and been more concise (!!!)… 66 emails in four days sounds like a lot. But then, having thought it was getting out of hand, there were no emails for two 20 hours periods. So,  66 emails in four days with almost two days off. This is embarrassing. I think I bloody well like this girl. Bugger. She is far too good for me, but there are things we should learn and teach eachother. And, at the end of the day, we are able to just have some stupid shameless fun. I can, admittedly, do this with almost anyone, despite their better better sense of self worth. Whatever, it was as surprising to me as all holy fuck when I started wishing this beautiful young thing was old and ugly so we could have a relationship and fly under the radar.

Was so happy to hear from her. When last seeing her she was a little confused and walking off. No hug, no wave, no goodbye from me, as was running late to get my daughter on the Tuesday evening. I will always regret not being a little more forceful with her in some ways, but then when she rang crying her eyes out and needing a talk, there was relief in me as she re-assured me she was in a good place. 

I then spent six weeks in jail and am now stuck at home. Have been very depressed.

As has she.

Upon hearing about jail and everything, she started blaming herself for my predicament. Honestly, I have never met anyone quite like this one. I like her way too much and sending some honest emails such as “when you were asleep in my flat that morning, I took off and had a quick bonk with someone else, and you thought I was on Facebook the whole time,….”

We were never a couple at all. But, later that afternoon, when sneaking in to wake her, I sat there and thought how much I trusted her and how damn cute she is….. And…. What is this? An emotion of some sort?

I was very close to giving up and using a lot of drugs and just not giving a fuck on Monday. Then there was the drug and alcohol psych meeting on Thursday. This is part of the NZ Court system, as they consider virtually every problem in my life, or offending, to be drug related.

The drug guy was suspicious of me (forewarned maybe?) but after two and a half hours (the meeting was only two) he gave me a lift home as my ankle bracelet was giving off alarming dangerous vibrations and scheduled another appointment for Monday. AT MY HOUSE.

This time last week there was no way on this planet I would let a strange A&D psych guy into my flat. But now I am okay with it.

I had not heard from “Legs” for the last twenty hours. You guessed it – I get a nagging email from her about getting rid of my clutter, tidying my flat and doing some positive carpentry or painting or drawing. This email arrives just as the A&D guy ushers me to his car.

It is now Friday evening. And, having done nothing all day, I am excited.

TOMORROW IS GOING TO BE CRAZY CREATIVE DAY.

I know this, I can feel it. It’s like my ADHD is in control slightly. My motivation has come back. The old feeling of having “ants in the pants” has returned.

Today was freezing. Got into bed and watched the whole of TRUE DETECTIVE. Was busy contemplating if I had annoyed legs a little too much as she had not emailed since 1am… When…. 7pm arrived and she emailed. She emailed during a very interesting little bit of the last episode of TRUE DETECTIVE where the guy basically dies, goes into a coma and then is sad and annoyed when he is woken up as he was with his dead three year old child whilst dead.

MY HIGHER POWER…

is People on the Same Wavelength. I have explained how this works elsewhere. But it is science based, not faith based.

The very fact that “LEGS” is being discussed and she emails for the first time within ten minutes shows that she is on my wavelength, and that all these “co-incidences” are mathematically not random events.

THE FIRST TIME I DIED….

Was many years ago. 26 or 27 years. This is not the second time where the out of body experience has been described….

When I died the first time it was just “stopping”. There were some drugs in my system, yes. I was laying on my girlfriends bed and just “stopped”. For a few seconds it felt like the most amazing opiate sensation. Then my mind lifted out of my head, and barely noticable in time differential, the spine and all other nerves followed suit. I can never explain this bit, but you do not feel yourself turning upside down, but every time I have had this, you are looking down at yourself, although your physical body is laying face up on the bed / floor / road / river.

And then again, I cannot explain this, but the sensation of moving AGAINST gravity (ie – UPWARDS according to Einstein) and TOWARDS a bright white light is overwhelming. Yet, the sensation is more like gently closing your eyes. So, you are moving upwards, towards a white light, whilst looking downwards. Come on Einstein. Explain time, space and this little mess then.

This is where things get interesting. That white light is filling up all your vision now. The rods and cones of your eyes tell you so. There are no gates, and unfortunately not even Clarissa Broderick in skin tight red lycra and suggestively clutching a designer pitchfork make cameo’s.

THANK YOU SO MUCH TRUE DETECTIVE.

You reminded me of something…. The white light fills everything. It is a three dimensional space with no boundaries. There are soft mumblings, which become distinct. It as if EVERY SINGLE CONVERSATION IN THE WORLD OF ANY TRUE WORTH is in this white space.

I could tune in to any of these conversations. Just by paying attention, or attuning to the conversation. There were some very serious feelings. Serious ebbing and flowing. Serious waves of communication. A few conversations stopped. Although being able to understand them, I felt unable to contribute and make the conversation more worthy. There were multiple examples of this.

Although being worthy, and welcomed, a few dissenting wavelengths helped make up my mind.

To be truly happy being here with these subjects the only thing to do was to come back later.

But, hey, just a few more goes at hearing what that beautiful voice is saying. Yes, that beautiful sound – the soft pink glow to the East. The dawning of a chorus which, when proper tuning on my old transistor radio in my noggin was acheived, was signing my name softly.

Upon leaving the white space, somewhat reluctantly and still undecided as to going back for another look straight away, there was my body. Again, I could see my body, but it was very close. I knew I was facing upwards, and yet I could sense where my body was.

A little like landing a lunar craft in a very early Atari game, the final docking to get back into myself was a little skilful and took my last dying gasp of available energy.

The beautiful voice turned into a thousand decibel shreeeeeeeeakk.

The pink glow to the East turned into a blood red cheek and swollen eye.

For my girlfriend had rung 111, thrown buckets of water over me, thrown me to the floor and had been jumping up and down on me SCREAMING my name at me for minutes on end.

 

This white light is my fucken higher power.

Unreal. It took me how long to work this out again?

I am great at re-inventing the wheel. But when it was my wheel in the first place?

What a cock.

 

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Kids football….

Kids footy today. May have got in trouble for making field wider. The kids were having fun, everyone was happy, other than official NZfootball representative, whom really took it upon himself to clash with me. He lost the battle, but probably we have started a war….

Proud of my team and daughter. She got player of the day. Scored four goals on loan to other team. We did well. Very disorganized in patches. Having enough players each week and playing them in same positions would be awesome.

So, here I am.

Walked 5km to do something completely different…

image

Six puk racing clutch

And, today I should sell this six hundred dollar clutch and Ford Racing T5 Mustang gearbox that cost me almost four grand, rebuilt and modified to suit Ford Falcon straight sixes.

But, you know what?

Think I have a hobby.

Or, maybe, just maybe, am a total addict…

Got dumped. I think. :-(

TODAY…
I need another kid,
not more adult babysitting

Saw a young couple I have chatted with at various op-shoppes in Newtown. Saw them the other day with my coffee mate, “NIGZ”. She walked slower to avoid the “boyfriend” noticing and gave me a huge and enthusiastic wave, smile and some decent”eyes”. For she has eyes. And legs. And a bloody good attitude.

Today I offered them both a lift…. For the first time ever. Don’t know why. Bored? Interest? Bored interest? I have just been dumped, of course.

I stop the car and jump out…

“How far you going, you want a lift?”  she was sweating, walking fast. The walk and the heat did not fully explain the amount of sweat.

“We’re going over to xxxxxxx to score some smack, and I’m late. So, yes” she says already having dropped boyfriends hand and sliding into front seat. An attractive slide it was too.

Turns out they were off to score some “smack” from someone I know of in Wellington. She did a little spiel, although very nice, culminating with something along the lines of “turns out I am a fucking junkie” with a classic self depreciating smile.

Look here my dear, you really think I would have talked to you about the need for safe injecting rooms and the amount of effort I went to in order to defeat hep C if I had not pegged you as a junky. 

– I did not say,
but did think all too loudly

“Turns out I am a fucking junkie” she says.

“Hope that’s working out well for you” says I…

“We’ll see” says she.

“How much is it costing you?”

“$120 a day, but only recently. Was $60 a day. But recently…..” she sighs, and loses train of thought, looks straight at me with eyes wanting help, but not wanting to quit. Just wanting cash.

I hold her gaze for a minute with the best blank look I can muster. Driving a car means ignoring passengers at 90 degrees away from the view over the bonnet.

We were almost at their destination. I have seen this sort of couple before. She is motivated, attractive and smart. She stands out in a crowd. Things will come to her, whether she likes it or not. She can manage most things herself. But her “boyfriend” is a slightly dopey guy who she can use to get in the way when she wants to. I do not know this for a fact in this instance, but in previous observations of this sort of couple, it is true that the “boyfriend” lives off her dregs and she supports them both in order for the “protection” a smelly male can provide without pre-amble. He will follow her around until she implodes or leaves his leash tied somewhere else. He may return to his bitter punk mates and take up drinking cheap alcohol. Probably won’t even go through withdrawals.

We reach our destination. She is starting to realise I am / was / is a fucken junky too. She’s looking for avenues. Obviously.

I ask if they have a safe place to shoot up and tell them both to take care. Real care.

If they had no real place to shoot up, what would I have done? Offered them my place? My car? If they had not been able to do it properly and caused marks and harm to their arms, would I have helped and shown them how to do it properly? Would I have shot them up if they couldn’t?

FUCK ME. No no no no no no no no no no no no.

That is enough to finish me off too. They need saving. When they are ready. A few dirty tastes and blocked veins may speed up the process.

 

She looked a bit rough around the edges. Sweating out skin pores that didn’t exist this time six months ago. Her boyfriend smelt unwashed. Old stinky Paul smell. These two people are a shame.

They remind me of me. TOTALLY.

And I hated older people trying to help or show me how to do things. Once there was an older lady, very petite, very sweet and (now I am older and aware) she was obviously an ex-junky. She snuck up behind me and pulled me to once side and could have said so much and taken me home and made me cups of tea and watched me withdraw and I would have loved her and not gone with stinky exhibitionist punk girls and gone to jail and had years of crap.

At least, not in her mind. Until the moment past and she looked away wistfully and off I went. I was 18, wearing black, tattoo’s coming out ripped singlet, hair a mess, black jeans, army boots, needle marks, and not giving a fuck.

Guess I was more like this young lady than the young guy.

Wish I could help this young lady in some way. So full of life and energy, yet today, hanging out, she had grown bitter. Not twisted. Not rejecting the world. But really wishing that she had given up. For a small period of time.  Before she scores and the world becomes sweet. Nice. Happy. The opiates flood her head. Feelings of accomplishment and fulfilment. I know. For I love that feeling. It’s just that it is FUCKEN FAKE. 

Real Life is spending time teaching a bunch of kids stuff that you love.

And seeing them love it.

And seeing your daughter love you for it.

2014_11_30

Damn I hope my kid doesn’t become a junky. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. I just wish she wouldn’t.

With the knowledge gained from years of trouble, both her mother and I know what to look for.

Look at my life… Or, maybe don’t….

This girl whom just left my car left me with feelings of impossibility.

Kids will do what kids do.
Even if there is a fence at the top of the cliff they will climb it.
And, eventually, need the ambulance at the bottom.

Just wish I could fight it with them. Or for them.

This is half of what happened this morning.
The rest is here. 16 February 2015.

Need a real life.

If only there was more time…….

 HONESTLY, BEEN DUMPED?

Not sure what to feel about this.

A post written in 2013 was called I GOT DUMPED. HELL YEAH. Couldn’t agree more with that old post. I got dumped. Best thing that ever happened to be fair. That person is back. At a distance. But that lovely young borderline personality disorder mess person is not the issue.

The issue is the really fun friend, whom I fucken loved spending time with… No shit. I really did appreciate the time spent with her… She is so much like me. So cheeky. So clever. So full of honest, brutal humour. The worst junky, punk, obnoxious fun possible. Without the junk, punk or beatings…

I loved spending time with her.

But then there was a serious moment or two.

And then, I can only guess, something or someone got into her mellon.

From a million texts and calls a day to ZERO over night, without explanation. I think my number is on her “blocked” list as rang it once yesterday and once today… Rung once and went straight to answer phone. Tried texting today (the text was three dots ““) and got nothing.

Guess I have been dumped. Flat. On face. Without even having a boot or bat slapped around the back of my head. Even if you don’t get a bat, or boot, it is nice to get a good-bye, an explanation, a final word.

Without this final word, some people would get really annoyed and even violent and stalkerish. Thankfully for the world I am not what you all make me out to be.

No matter how much fun being really annoyed, stalking and violent sounds, I promise you that is not me. 

Maybe it should be. Wouldn’t mind an answer as to what the fuck happened there.

Reading this blog may have done it. Ho hum. Ring me and tell me girl. You know you will see me around Newtown sooner or later anyway. Then what? You’ll run and hide for no reason? Fuck me. Who cares. I need more kids. Not more adult babysitting.

And then there is life.

Am writing from cellphone as daughter is MineCrafting after this mornings football…

image

Yesterday was valentine’s. Something not really on my radar.

It seemed only fair to spend a little romantic time with another single person. Although having a few possible hug and cuddle contenders, I had accepted the idea put forward by a single lady whom was feeling especially single and down on a day advertised by our corporate leaders as a “must have” otherwise you’re not as happy as you should be.

For once I cove to corporate crap. I gave a quick visit, present and hug to a beautiful young lady whom could be a great fun friend, long term. If only she felt the same… Sigh.

Then received odd Valentine’s day comments from some very young and possibly fun friends.

But ended up spending the evening, uer, the night, with someone else. She snuck in, once daughter asleep, jumped into bed without preamble, started a dvd and greeted my return from shower with a genuine smile and hug. I am never going to love this lady, hell, I don’t even like her that much.

But right then and there we were both what eachother needed. Poor girl.

I was stressed. My daughter came for a weekend without a change of undies or socks. Three days in same underclothes, on top of other repeated adhd style behaviours started doing my head in.

Had a nice chat with lady from previous post. She knows about this blog. She may have read yesterdays entry. Whatever the reason she has not returned texts or calls today. Hope she ended up having a nice Valentine s. Was thinking of her, just couldn’t be with her.

Fucken life.
.?

 

Just sent this text to the four players whom showed up for this mornings soccer football…

Was good having time after game . I have a really screwed up lower spine so takes me a while to get going. Was neat having time after game to have a kick and give attention to each kickers style. Will give them homework and fitness drills next week…
Lol
🙂

Spending time with four kids and their mums n dads n aunties was A fucken PLUS use of my life.

 We only had four players, the manager of the other team had a beautiful smile, a nice wink and a warm handshake. The team was from a rich suburb. All the mums were well presented and young. This, believe it or not, was not noticed until later. Right now, however, we borrowed a player.

My kid and her got along really well. We had a great game, some good moves. Some of my advice and nagging was evidently working well… Parents on all sides are starting to see the madness that is me making sense. The kids are starting to love playing Sunday footy. It was cold and wet and for the first time in history, not one single kid or parent mentioned, nay, complained, about…. weather

We got there at 8. We left at 10.30 even tho we only had a half hour game at nine.

We didn’t want to leave. The fields were needed for adult games. Kids all learnt. I taught one kid something. I taught another kid something else. I have grazes from goalie diving on artificial turf. Kids have sore legs from kicking a ball more than most ever have. Parents seemed stoked. Dad and Coach worn out.

Sometimes I love my life and think I am truly an awesome guy.

Really. This is a new thing for me. Having spent the better part of three decades trying to live as though you didn’t want tomorrow goes with the territory of loathing. Of the most dedicated “I don’t give a shit” variety.

And then the kids go, the nice mums stop imagining fifty shades of football coach, the energy fades like the come down from some watered down NZ purchased cocaine…

We have twenty dollars to go to a festival, yet we’re sitting at home. She is playing MineCraft. She creates some amazing things and I am so proud of my slightly adhd bundle of enthusiasm….

Need another life. A family. A real family unit.

Without, there is a large deficit of happy.

A happiness deficit of any magnitude is a dangerous thing.

Artificial happiness is available.

So, prey, is oblivion.

It is bloody hard trying to chose life, fucken life. On a daily basis.

Fifty Shades of Black n Blue… Happy Valentines

A year ago today saw a post right here called Valentines Doornails.

It had a specially created graphic. I went and got a syringe, pulled some blood into it out my own arm and then sprayed it around a dying rose flower.

Something like this…

valentines

Good huh?

Stop holding your breath.

This year you lot get nothing.

Fifty Shades of Grey, my ass. I have spent time (quality time) with various females whom have read this book. Sounds like Mills n Boon with a couple of extra props to me. Yawn.

Lately I have been getting a few tattoos. I dropped a car gearbox on my forearm two days ago.

I am in danger of falling in love with the girl whom hits the bruise on my forearm with a closed fist as hard as she can. In danger of falling for the girl whom is so open and obnoxious in public that she could compete with me. (And that really is something…) The girl whom sees a new tattoo, grabs it, hits it, scratches her fingernails down it, and then cares for it with all the tender care of a mother caring for a new born.

The girl whom…. Well, fuck, we enjoy each others company greatly. A hugely dangerous and problematic time approaches all too rapidly.

She has left me with fifty shades of black and blue.

Think it has to end. She claims she is a good friend.

I have yet to see it.

Hell of a lot of fun maybe.

But good? Not on your life.

Mushies


image

Back in the day we loved NZ government for using bark filled with majic mushroom spores for road side gardens. I have a GUILTY OF POSSESION CLASS A DRUG from this patch outside the motorway tunnel... First time it rains in twenty degree weather at Wellingtons new Government funded Arras tunnel, itself a lead on road to the tunnel about 500m away, look what my bloody daughter finds.

Learning from past is part of advanced society and governance.

Not on your life. At least, not in this lifetime. 

 

nz_history

 

Click

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.