Far be it me to exaggerate, of course… Until burning my lower leg whilst attempting to melt alloy in the coal fired home made hot hot melty machine the thought of third degree burns in order to get out of bracelet for a few days had not occurred.
Now it has…
MY SISTER’S BIRTHDAY… Not being so happy after all. Somewhat, bad sadly nonetheless, predictably the NZ Department Of Coercions has denied me the opportunity to attend my old mates funeral Monday lunchtime.
“Not enough time to arrange ankle bracelet change” is the excuse. Guy died on Thursday. Found out funeral date Friday, got refusal during home visit on my dead sister’s birthday this morning.
The probation officer JT was “oh, so very sorry”about this, as he stunk out my house having obviously had a previous engagement at a chemical factory producing very obnoxious and superbly copious amounts of male perfume…
Just when you get sick of fighting, something reminds you why you bother in the first place.
Am I faulty in thinking that if the world, the system, your friends, show you a little compassion, respect or belief that you feel less alienated or dissociated from society at large and will, inevitably, stand a better chance of fitting in?
With support and beneficial relationships this is easy.
With friends who all share their problems, but know none of yours… With dictatorship style systems and processes too busy covering their own arses on a small scale to notice they are losing the bigger picture.
With that the system fails, but capitalism wins.
GROWTH IN OFFENDING MEANS LARGER SPEND ON “REHAB”, JAILS AND ASSOCIATED INDUSTRY.
Not being allowed to your old best friends funeral may not seem like a big deal to you.
To me, it seems no big deal to spend fifteen minutes on paperwork allowing me to attend a funeral of a guy I have known and grown up with for fourty years.
Fuck the system. Fuck the Police. Fuck capitalism.
You all almost won. I am far from the only one suffering similar seemingly vindictive treatment time and time again.
I am far from the only one really struggling to do the right things for victims, friends, family and society.
I am far from only one failing miserably.
Wish I could help you all.
That is not my Department.
Kate, my sister. HAPPY YOUR BIRTHDAY TO ME. TO Us.
She died. Lung cancer. Three years, or is it four now? Time stands still in limbo land. That feeble divide between being a good enough dad, but never being allowed to see your kid for no good reason.
But this is not about me. Nor is it about the pathetic family court system and corrupt judges.
It is a happy birthday wish to us all.
Even though one of my best mates as a kid died despite bone marrow swaps going well fourty eight hours ago.
Not without noticing co incidences a plenty as he was in same room at Ccdhb cancer area…
His funeral on Monday. And the powers that be, CORRECTIONS, JUSTICE, POLICE are doing their best to prevent my attendance.
They are slowly kicking the fight out of me.
For I am becoming selfish. And therefore avoiding pain.
Happy and relaxing day to us.
Unfortunately the powers that be – Police / Health / Courts / God / Take Your Pick – have been taking control of my life.
Kicking and screaming, far from handing it over.
However, am slowly having the fight kicked out of me. Just too many things to whine about, far too many things to add together comprehensibly.
Maybe there should be a book.
Perhaps, by not writing it, there would be some credit from my god for saving you all the disappointment that reading it would inevitably bring.
Ran around like a headless chicken for a month as knew the electronic ball and chain was coming this time.
Got a bunch of projects.
Got a cheap welder.
Got a broken car.
Got some new go fast bits.
Got a garden.
Try to stay creative, if not entirely positive.
As least these lead to focusing, and therefore a little serenity.
But, life dictates to me am deserving of a very sore back. Have been avoiding the epidurals as sometimes they just leave me legless.
Today I went for a new procedure with the good Paul Hardy at Wellington Regional Hospital (CCDHB). … Came away feeling better than ever in the last six months. Sitting in front of the computer for a few hours has been neat.
Hope it doesn’t come back to bite me arse in the morning.
Just run with it.
Death by duvet is okay. Apathy via Apple. Necrosis with thanks to Netflix.
Sometimes it’s better than alternatives.
Just run with it.
Don’t file my advice. For having fourty eight hours before being sentenced to home detention for the rest of the year should see you out and about doing as much as possible.
Which was the plan.
Just run myself into the ground in the process.
Am sure some drugs would help get over it.
Maybe tomorrow. But just for today there is horizontal time and Netflix. AM sure that in fourty eight hours this will seem like a silly choice.
Until then, give me a Fucken break…
Even though I was supposed to move in here June 7th, but the property agent, Rentables Levin, stuffed me around until the 20th…
Even though they then told me I had to move out after only a week as “the owner wants to move back in to sub divide and put up a new house”…
Even though this has cost me a thousand dollars of expenses…
Even though Rentables Levin took a 250 dollar “letting fee” that they refuse to refund…
Even though it’s owners and Rentables have cost me every spare bit of cash and effort and favours from friends to move in…
Don’t see why 125 Liverpool Street, Levin should suffer.
After all, it is not the houses fault.
After all, it is not the houses fault.
Nor, in actual fact, is it mine..
In the words of the long tme old coffee mate from Newtown…
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE..”
Couldn’t agree more old nigz, couldn’t agree more…
So, maybe somewhat stupidly, have still been mowing lawns, weeding gardens, cleaning gutters, water blasting mould off concrete and even paying the rent.
Beautiful day with freshly mower applied lawn.
Shame. The house and property love me. And I just need a place to stay and settle.
Well, enough said… Jeezus….