Naloxone hydrochloride gets a drug charge in NZ

Stupidly, given the position I was in years ago of using and living with heavy opiate fiends, NZ police found a vial of narcaine or narcan and charged me with possession of a controlled drug.

Given the fact others had over dosed in the house, including me, this drug possession could have saved lives.

In fact, a few did die of over dose. The police then took great delight in locking people up under the guise of manslaughter convictions.

Meanwhile, my life saving collection of drugs was destroyed and I was charged under misuse of drugs act.

Actively narcissistic behavior by New Zealand Police and the Prosecution service, which happens to be police in N.Z.

Naloxone info found on my tiny smartish phone…

wiki explanation of narcan

Time update on surgeon general advisory in U.S.A

Would a life have been saved if we had access to those drugs? Possibly.

Would harm have come from us having access to those drugs? Most definitely not.

Final score…

Police 3 charges, 2 convictions

Junkies -1


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.

** 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.

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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


Board Shitless

Stuck at home, ankle bracelet attached, house a mess, bored. Some people come to visit… Which is awesome. Without them would have no food or happiness… But some random girl at 8am in the morning demanding breakfast and coffee when you’re asleep in bed?

Note to self – Start remembering to shut the front door…

Family Court papers need to be done, but have issues with that too . It is so upsetting that taking a million valium and sleeping until my kid is sixteen is a consideration. Right now it is my football teams training. And this… Well… What the hell…


Cannot go to the court in order to get their new requirements for submitting affidavits and the like. My criminal lawyer has all the paper as he used part of it to help get bail. I have to learn to put my foot down. Have two days to file 100 pages and don’t even have the documents that I am supposed to be replying to.

Have finally got appointment to get a Winz benefit... Having no income at all for 7 weeks before this happens is not good.

And then the 0800 EMBail “team” did not answer the Winz ladies telephone advances, so have not been able to confirm any of this. The Electronic Monitoring Bail requires all appointments to be confirmed and approved with days notice.

You know what… ?
(You don’t know what…)
almost guarantee it…

Being a druggy and having no life outside of drugs seems quite attractive just now. You may not deal with life on life’s terms, but at least you’re numb to all the pain.

I am lying in bed, pretty close to throwing in the towel.

Am used to confining myself to this flat to avoid trouble. Now it appears being confined here could result in worse.

Wonder if my old Spiritual Advisor (TM) is still talking to me?


Life is a shambles. 

With, or without, the gear.

All these little moods, depression and feelings of being worthless will pass.

The shambles may not.

I am a real brother.

KATEAlthough currently listening to BROTHERHOOD OF MAN by MOTORHEAD quite loud at 8am in my block of flats, I feel this is somewhat tame.

Today is the deathday of my sister, Kate. Her birthday is later this year.

Dug up this graphic I did for the cover of the memorial service prints. Also did the inside, the back, the inserts. But, this graffix will suffice for these crappily written and ill thought pages.

You can see the house we grew up in behind the beach. You can see my car (most importantly, of course) too.

We had some good times on this beach.

I am a real brother.

Life was starting to take a new turn before Kate came back from the U.K weighing something like 35kg (she should have been 60 I would say). Kate ran, she biked, she walked, she sailed, she toured the world.

She is scattered in New Zealand.

Gabor Maté once corrected me when I suggested us ADhD types had “SHATTERED MINDS”. He was quick to point out the differences between SHATTERED and SCATTERED.

Kate is shattered.

I am attempting to spend the day SANS-SHATTERED myself.

Football training last night did my head in. Pulling my hair out. Twenty boisterous ten year olds to control. Is it wrong to diagnose ADHD, ANXIETY and other personality disorders whilst coaching your teams? I think not. WHY DO I HAVE TWENTY KIDS TO LOOK AFTER WHEN I HAVE TROUBLE WITH MY OWN ONE TEAM ANYWAY?!!! I got annoyed. I could not get them to listen for fourty five minutes. Finally they started getting it. One group of kids (my daughter was in this group)  started doing it properly almost straight away. The worst listeners… Well… The drill was to only kick the ball twice and PASS. The worst listeners were still dribbling the ball (one kid kicked 17 times!) AFTER TWENTY MINUTES. The worst listeners got their football taken off them… I then kicked the football as far as my back allows (about 60 metres) and they had to run and get it. If they did not run there and back, I would take it off them and kick it just as far the other direction. 

Something to be said for military style ADHD interventions.

Any Comments Gabor? Am sure my spiritual advisor would kick my arse. With a potentially penetrating appendage on her toes.

This took away my happy mojo. Went to a social gathering, did not see anyone I recognised immediately, so turned and left. Was only there thirty seconds. If that.

Guess I am a real brother.

Guess I do have some stress around my sisters death.

Guess I am okay.

Guess life and time changes.

Guess I am healing.

Guess I am recovering.


It’s not ALL bad news

So, I got HEP C in jail about twenty years ago. The NZ Health Dep’ used to issue pamphlets and advisories to the effect that you could re-use syringes if you boiled them for a while and / or sunk them in a bleach solution. They even provided little packets of bleach for you to do just this.

Turns out they are full of it.

Didn’t work in the slightest. Luckily half of us more clever people didn’t believe them anyway.

But then, when in jail, needs = must. We even went so far as to take days to source all the stuff. Bleach from the washroom, boiling jug with removable top… And then it took us another day to get into the same cell for long enough to swap drugs, cook, use and contract HEP C.

Good effort lads. Ten out of ten.

I always tell people I got it from razors in jail. They were overlooked by the health department too as it happens. What’s the difference?

Today I went for a Fibro-Scan. A thumpy thing thumps on your ribcage and it returns results ultrasound style. I have scaring and death to some of my liver, but not as bad as the original liver function tests would have indicated. This is what you get for not smoking cannabis or drinking for ten years. A healthy dying liver. Not an unhealthy dying liver. Awesome.

Thumping your ribs with a little piston doesn’t find little cancers mind you……. (ahem)

The genome type of HEP I have is the type that responds by dying in 98% of the people on this new NZ designed drug. It has no side effects of interferon (death being a major side effect) and is almost twice as succesful. Quite happy to give that a go.


I may not even start a class action lawsuit against the Health Department now. But twenty years with this thing surely has caused some problems. Trouble is that I have had it my whole adult life. So I’ve no idea of how life could be without it.

Hope to let you know sometime.

It turns out drugs aren’t the problem – The problem is……………….

Lack of drugs might be the problem mind you… Uhm… I reached this stunning momentous thought, somewhat eureka like even, early daze into this withdrawal process. Someone with a few years clean time who meditates and has been studying a bit of neuroscience lately… This someone said “I have worked out that drugs aren’t the problem, the problem is me….”

I smiled from ear to ear and threw my hands up like a black preacher in front of his congregation. I hope no one noticed.

I have had this exact some conversation with many people now. And we all agree (eventually…) Luckily I am happy to have “here lies NZFIEND. Re-inventor of the wheel” on my headstone. No funeral thanks. Not really interested in funerals. And please fill me up with Aardbalm, not formaldehyde. Thanks. If you would pass that onto Mum and Dad or whomever is left when I kick the bucket… Good on you.

And feed me back into the environment. Once the medical people have cut me to small bits finding miniscule cancers in my prostate, liver and left testical.

Maybe I will finally get a diagnosis of ADhD after all – They will cut my head open, flip the skull to one side and find a large left frontal lobe and an extremely undeveloped right area.

Luckily they will find a large insula area and a nice, almost sexy, amygdala.

This will prove, once and for all, that I was not a psychopath. 

ANXIETY, DEPRESSION, Cognitive Functions

Well, I don’t know really. To be honest I am more down than up at the moment. Just how much of this can be apportioned to drugs, or lack thereof, is hard to get a handle on.

This is where life gets complex.


A rotating animation of the human brain showing the left frontal lobe in red within a semitransparent skull. The anterior cingulate cortex (ACC) is sometimes also included in the frontal lobe. Other authors include the ACC as a part of limbic lobe. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

If I wasn’t labelled an “Addict” I would be able to get pain relief for my back. But then I would become an addict. Can’t have that. No f’ing way. For only $30 NZ PESO I could get a ten minute download from Tony…. $30 NZ PESO is half what I get each week for food, haircuts and everything. I live of $60 a week. So, although eleven quid seems like a good idea, it isn’t happening. A ten minute MP3 for $30. That’s three dollars a minute. If a hundred of us got together, we could fly him to NZ and SAVE MONEY!

By having to move slowly and do very little you cannot help but isolate and get depressed. There are many roundabouts in life. Some go in figure eights. Some move in rollercoaster fashion. Mine a more like large spirals with random deviations thrown in.

My brain is to blame. Maybe those large hunks of wood it has run into at high velocity don’t help. But when you get off to an “interesting” start in life, I figure the right frontal lobe and particularly the bits that do impulse control, attention span… (can you see where I am going with this?) … probably don’t grow that much.

That leaves the left side to over develop. This gives the impression of the human being more intelligent or gifted at certain activities.

Has anyone ever done a study into how many ADhD, dyslexic, autistic people are LEFT HANDED?

And then cross reference the results with left handed psychopaths just for giggles.




I just found many studies online of LEFT HANDED and ADhD crossover studies. Some studies actually started suggesting that ADHD was a “LEFT HANDED DISEASE!” hahahahah!

The thing about us “lefties” is that almost all of us have different skill sets.

    • I write left handed, draw left handed. But I use a computer mouse in my right hand.
    • I kick left footed, but actually have scored more goals with my right. The left is just more natural feeling.
    • I play cricket and golf right handed.
    • I play baseball or softball (batting) left or right handed (equally badly) but prefer right handed, although the grip gets confusing and sometimes my thumbs get in the way of the follow through…
    • I butter my toast with my left hand (knife in left). I cut a loaf of bread with knife in left hand. I cut a chicken or roast meal with fork in right and knife in left. But then I swap to left hand on fork when actually eating a meal and have become used to using the right for chopping steak or toast or whatever.
    • I punch right handed. That is, jab with left, punch with right.

Others who write with left, do a lot of things differently. When you meet a “leftie” you must always ask what else they do left and right. Most will not even realise they do shit all over the place. Until I said to a receptionist at the mental health ward last month about putting butter on toast with left hand and then swapping to right to cut the bit of toast, she didn’t realise she did that as well!

So, where does the line of “ambidextrous” and being left handed start and stop?

If humans brains all developed “properly, according to science” we would all be right handed. So, to some extent, there are no “left handed people” but people whom are more ambidextrous and those whom are “non right handed”. I am laughing at myself now, but…………. Being ambidextrous, in the medical usage of the word, means you have a severely high rate of autism, ADhD and related brain (dis)function DSM diagnosis heading your way.

There is *definitely* something in this line of inquiry. I am brilliant. I worked out something all by myself (again).

You really are going to have to get a “re-inventing the wheel” headstone for me. Take a photo of it, and then shatter it for me. Cheers.

Drugs aren’t the problem. The problem is being left handed.

Sixty Daze

It is now official. In a completely unofficial way. Sixty days. Went to the library, got out some more books… Looked up a few books on their computer system and then couldn’t find them on the shelves. Walked over to lady behind desk. Asked for help. Found books. Titles such as “The Wisdom of Psychopaths” ( Your Psychopath Challenge score is high: 25 out of  a possible 33 ****) “Is there a PSYCHO in your life?“, “The Tender Cut” (self harm), Dyslexia and ADhD – The Miracle Cure started to pile up on her desk. She looked at me sideways.

“These are just random books”, I explained somewhat truthfully…. “I was actually here looking for stories about shipping movements…”

“Hahahah” says library chick, not at all convinced I am in the least sane. I smile. She looks scared. I remember my missing teeth and lack of shaving recently. I go sit quietly and make note to ignore her quietly from now on.

  • **** When most people think of psychopaths, Hannibal Lecter typically springs to mind! But actually, being psychopathic doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re a serial killer – or even that you’ll break the law. Actually, within the framework of clinical psychology, a psychopath is someone with a distinct cluster of personality traits including charm, charisma, fearlessness, ruthlessness, narcissism, persuasiveness, and lack of conscience. Sure, these traits may well come in handy if you aspire to be an axe-murderer. But they can also come in handy in the courtroom, on the trading floor, or in operating theatre. It just depends on what else you’ve got going on in your personality, and the start you get in life. Another misconception about psychopaths concerns diagnosis. A lot of people think that you’re either a psychopath or you’re not, that it’s all very black and white. But this is not the case. In fact, psychopathy – like height, weight and IQ (to take just a few examples) – lies on a spectrum. Sure, at the sharp end you may well find your serial killers and axe murderers. But at the same time, all of us have our place at some point along the continuum. Some of us may score higher on some psychopathic traits than on others. But unless you score high on all of them, you don’t really have anything to worry about! (FROM
  • I like this Kevin Dutton guy. A lot more than I like the sound of HARE. Argh. Why do I have an opinion on this? Maybe it is as I scored over thirty out of fourty on the HARE PCL-R test and now I have got 25 out of 31 on this test too. But at least this guy recognises a sliding scale. I always score “well” for empathy and “consideration of others” sort of scores. So I figured this means I am capable of psychotic behaviours in the context of stressors being met. I have now found someone who agrees with this thought. Maybe… (THOUGHTS from my own blog…)

And then Mum rings, she wants to have lunch “together”

“Together” with Mum is an odd thing. Together never really happens. It sounds nice in principle but is never fully 100% achieved. She talks to you. You talk to her. She doesn’t listen. You get annoyed. You get reminded why you have issues in the first place. A Dad that openly claims “nothing I did could have changed the way you grew up, look at your sister…” is not much of a help. But Mum. Well, she is special.

She can tune out half way through a sentence.

The lady sitting next to us in the cafe was astounded. I said (and I have learnt over the years to use very short sentences and constantly make sure Mum is still pretending to be paying attention…) ….

“Hey Mum, this Irish surgeon doctor I know just organised a strike back home in Ireland as some of the junior doctors over there have been committing suicide due to work stress..”

Oh my, that’s terrible. Where? Here in New Zealand? That’s terrible.”

You see — Mum hears me say “Hey Mum” (see focuses on me and gives me some attention). She then hears “garble garble garble doctor garble suicide garble stress”.

Her brain then flicks in and thinks “hey, you could be interested in this, say something to show you’re interested” and out pops “oh my, that’s terrible” (not really understanding what is terrible) and then remembers I said something about a location… “Where, in New Zealand?”

This happens EVERY SINGLE TIME I CONVERSE WITH MY MUM. She seems to treat me special with this.

The lady next to me looks at me sideways.

“No Mum. In IRELAND. I wish you would listen sometimes.”

“Well, too bad. I can’t have a personality transplant you know”

The lady next to us looks away somewhat wide eyed now. I stand up and find a toothpick. I return and decide to broach the subject of ADHD.

“Hey Mum… I finally have an appointment to see someone who knows about adult ADhD”


“ADhD Mum. Maybe if I had worked it out or even been diagnosed with something years ago the system could have got into gear, saved millions on court costs, jail and drug addiction treatments. The only trouble is the psychiatrists in NZ think it is hereditary.”


I decide to forget 90% of what I said and answer the “Huh?” with what I want to say.

“Turns out that you don’t get ninety odd criminal convictions for some really stuffed up stuff if you’re all okay Mum…”


“Turns out a lot of it is attachment theory in origin.”

“I got you these brochures for a cancer grief counsellor….”

Mum hands me brochures for a cancer grief counsellor. The lady next to us is probably thinking about ringing DOCTOR PHIL, JEREMY KYLE and OPRAH.

 I thought seriously about telling her about the two old junky mates I have who are currently in hospital having their livers radiated, sliced and diced. They both have liver cancer. They have advised me, ever so helpfully, that I am not far behind.

I reckon Mum can go to the U.K and see her 99 year old Mum who is going to die any day without this knowledge.

That is interesting. Although me and my sister talked about death a little (she never talked about it with anyone else I found out after her death) we always talked as though it was us both dying. I conveyed my out of body and death experiences. She was more concerned about my liver (Hep status) and me getting treatment than I was.

But we had some good laughs about Dad surviving all of us. The old chain smoking, alcoholic, controlling, blood pressure ridden, unhealthy, lazy, white man who has had two ruptured bowels, most of his joints replaced and is constantly winging about everything.

Yes, him.

He is going to out live us all. He will then die as no one will be around to cook diner.