Woke up today. A normal thing to be doing. Just currently hate it.
Got up, well, sort of vertical as opposed to horizontal… Struggled to kitchen on this list*. Opened eyes to stare blindly into fridge… Saw this next to my fridge and, ADHD and DRUG ADDICTION experts will not be surprised, am now writing 700 words into WordPress instead of eating anything in the fridge.
Was stuck some place in November and drew this picture at top using paper stolen out a photocopier and a four colour pen “liberated” from an owner who did not use it (the black was almost empty) at first I only had a blue pen, thanks for the colour!
Also in November my kid must have drawn this picture at bottom (it is a calender, made by her school)… She is 12 now and have not seen her for a year almost, and will not see her, hear from her or get a Christmas or Birthday gift to her. Mum gave me this picture she drew last month.
Nothing to really look forward to.
Struggling to stay at all enthusiastic.
May be going to jail, have been evicted as “owner may want to sell”, have no where to go and have really run out of energy…… Just too much on my plate to deal with… am not coping…
Drugs and jail seem like good options when you have nothing to look forward to other than debt and stress. FRUSTRATION and being POWERLESS has lead me to be angry.
These arms are not self harm in the sense of the term.They are, however, the result of hitting large windows without fear of hurting myself. This is not really self harm. No, really. It isn’t. Seriously. Fuck. Whatever… All you people with psych training can just piss right off…..
Am very lucky to be okay other than having bad bruising around ligaments and not being able to use right hand for anything without severe pain in the wrist and forearm…
Am very lucky the flying glass did not hurt anyone else too badly.
Am very very lucky these people are still talking with me….
At least via social media chat! Spent five hours from midnight on chat with the lady whom owns these windows. Guess we won’t be seeing much of each other in real life any longer. Totally fair. Cannot blame her for that. I agree.
For she now looks at me like I am some violent criminal. God knows the Police and the local town gossip already have me fucked, but she was one who didn’t fall for their shit. She believed in me, but everything got too much.
It is only a window.
But it is a loss far greater.
Am struggling to stay on track as some people are worth staying on track for. For they have struggled too, and they care about others too. They care more about me then I seem to care for myself.
Thankful for some good friends in Wellington. Gave me money to make it home, and let me sleep off and on all day whilst they quietly stepped over me. Absolutely brilliant. I was holding back a flood of tears as he walked to my car to make sure it started at I was safely driving. My good friend from the coffee shoppe whom I care about greatly has been simply brilliant. Sure, I nag him and drag him outside his comfort zone and do all these things for him against his wishes.
He has stood by me no matter how annoying my life is for him.
Am learning to care for myself, but still care for others first…
- Some have headaches constantly, mine come and go.
- Some have screwed up so badly, they don’t care and really fuck people over. I still care, just.
- Some are content doing nothing. Am far from content, but appear to be doing nothing.
So, woke up today. Kind of wish I didn’t.
a quick hug
from one of my chickens
may fix that.
For a time.
*LIST – noun
Sunrise. Goddam. Sleep woulda been nice.
Tried to re-break fractures in nose at Wellington Hospital yesterday…. Failed…
Now being booked in for ’emergency’ surgery.
“Is that really necessary” says me.
“Mate, it’s a bloody complicated and extreme septum deviation. It’s really not a simple operation…. ”
“Okay, thanks” says me with relief after spending the last five minutes concentrating on not passing out due to amazing pain in face and head.
General anesthesia sounds great. Pissing about trying to put bridge of nose a few mm towards the left left me with headaches and feeling pulse through nose like a hammer all night.
Knock me the fuck out and rearrange this septum…. ffs!
CCDHB is great. Although being banned and trespassed from all CCDHB grounds and environs, they continue to ignore this and provide me with world class health care.
Clarissa Broderick and her strap on are the only things at all denied to me by this “trespassing” order by the looks of it.
The trespass order is illegal in my opinion anyway, and I would love the Police to try and enforce it.
I have rung and Twitter’d #nzpolice showing them when I am “illegally trespassing” yet they have not once come to arrest me.
Clarissa and her strap on is more appealing than this headache and nose issue.
May try booking an appointment with her. I said “white rabbits” after all. Am due a good month.
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.
When stuck home twenty four seven you get sore, fat, depressed and a bunch of other really unhealthy sounding things. Things the powers that be probably neglect to take into account when judging you. They expect you to enter this limbo state and appear to the world that you are happy, stable in doing something with your life. What’s the point? You aren’t. You may as well just be getting really fucked up. No one is around to care. Makes no difference to anyone how you spend a few months on your own.
Was a little surprised when my tattooist mate contacted me earlier today. Have signed up to NETFLIX and was up until 3am watching latest series of MAD MEN and a new discovery, HOUSOS, which is bloody funny if you happen to be from New Zealand and spent a little time in Australia. Which, funnily enough, quite a few people in the near vicinity have. We were cracking up.
As it happens, getting the bottom of your foot tattoo’d is a bloody sore thing…. Who would’ve thought?
Making the world a better place, one step at a time.
They didn’t warn me about that when signing the papers for Electronic Monitored Bail. Any idiot in the world would realise being trapped at home for months on end will lead to comfort eating and many many many extra hours in bed watching complete TV series or films.
Really am in a limbo.
A serious one at that.
Waiting until SEPTEMBER for next meaningful court appearance which may result in freedom from ankle ball and chain.
And that is it.
Waiting. In limbo. For god knows what.
Since Thursday I have been looking forward to tomorrow excitedly. For tomorrow is a big day… Am out the door at 10:45 to attend a Probation Service meeting at 11am.
They wanted to come here. NO FUCKEN WAY!
Jeeeeeeeezus. You are not going to come here and prevent me from having a fifteen minute walk outside the confines of this cell.
Just give me a little break. Just an incy wincy one.
Am sure that giving a little bit of happiness and a little chance of helping me to help myself is not that far removed from a positive thing.
How the hell the CORRECTION DEPARTMENT claim to be “reducing re-offending” with this sort of attitude is beyond any logical argument.
Love to you all.
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.
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.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 29th
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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 ARE “HAPPIER“.
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.
All these stories just don’t stop.
Yet, I am the only one attempting to bring them to you?
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.
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…
Better off staying at home feeling like the world sucks.
For it does.