Outside the Realm of the Hungry Ghosts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

addiction_tattoos_big

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

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

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

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

This latest addiction could just kill me. 

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

banshee_crap

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

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

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

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

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

My happiness deficit will diminish with the use of drugs. 

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

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THERE IS SO MUCH TO SAY – HEROIN & MENTAL HEALTH

Heroin & Mental Healthneedles
Learning The Difference Between Causation And Correlation

post written by Anne Martlew

The issue of heroin use and mental health problems is a vexed one. The psychiatric community is divided over whether heroin abuse causes mental illness, or vice versa. All are agreed that heroin use is A Very Bad Thing, and all are deeply fond of the idea that heroin use and mental illness are co-morbid, but none are entirely sure of the precise relationship between the two. Many psychologists appear to believe that heroin abuse can both cause and be caused by mental illness. This allows the label ‘mentally ill’ to be applied to people at both ends of the equation. The problems arise when the authorities are presented with a patient who shows no signs of present or past mental illness (other than their addictive disorder). Such people are puzzling to rehab specialists, and present the world of established addiction psychology with a troubling quandary.

> Cause Or Catalyst?

Like alcohol, heroin and other opioids are likely to exacerbate the symptoms of any mental health issues you are currently experiencing. Any heroin forum will quickly tell you that your state of mind when shooting up makes a huge difference to the experience you get from the drug. As there is no such thing as ‘absolute normal’, and we all have our little quirks, it is easy for people to present as ‘mentally ill’ while high due to the exaggeration of these quirks and the loss of inhibitions. The same is true of drunk people, yet we are not nearly so swift to categorize everyone who’s had one too many as an asylum-case. Some scientists also believe that prolonged opioid abuse can affect one’s neurological makeup, rendering heroin use a cause of mental illness rather than just a symptomatic catalyst. Increasingly, the medical community is beginning to focus on the idea that heroin abuse can both cause and exacerbate mental illness. This is a convenient idea. It’s one-size-fits-all, and it makes it much easier to apply labels to addicted patients.

> Convenient Labels

Of course, if someone has a pre-existing psychosis and a correspondingly flawed sense of judgement then they MAY be more likely to seek out mood-altering drugs than someone of a more ‘stable’ mind-frame. In such situations, mental illness could be said to be a factor within heroin abuse. It’s not unknown for heroin users suffering from psychoses to report that their more personally traumatic symptoms feel lessened while high – although they may return with a vengeance during withdrawal. But, of course, anyone suffers intensely during withdrawal. It’s very easy for a psychologist to look at the mental contortions one goes through while withdrawing and pick out any number of psychotic symptoms, which can be either retrospectively applied as a ‘pre-existing condition’ or described as issues caused by heroin. The problems really begin when a patient turns up who presents with no symptoms of mental illness. This is a problem for the medical community. Such people are much harder to label, and our current roster of treatments depends very much upon labelling people and then applying the treatment relevant to that label. Patients are rarely looked at as individuals beyond the process of trying to fit them into a treatment box. When someone turns up without an obvious neurosis or psychosis, then the authorities try instead to classify them as having a social or traumatic disorder. This is arguably a waste of time.

> Social Determinants

It’s definitely a good idea to tackle the social determinants of opioid use, but this should really be done at the source rather than after the event. Removing the supply and challenging the kind of conditions which cause some vulnerable people to turn to drugs would make a huge difference. But the authorities should also acknowledge that doing heroin is fun, and some people simply do it because they enjoy it. Bad for you, sure. Bad for society, definitely. But still fun. It’s all too easy for psychiatrists to concentrate too hard on constructing a mental illness or a sob-story for each patient and fail to recognize the fact that getting high is enjoyable, and enjoyment is a powerful motivational force. This all too often leads to them failing the patient, as they’re trying to treat a fabricated illness or trauma rather than help them to get clean and stay clean. While it may well be true that certain external factors like mental illness and social conditioning can make one more vulnerable to opioid abuse, if we try too hard to put people into the ‘mad’ or ‘traumatized’ boxes then we will never get to the real root of the problem. Doing opioids is fun, and it makes you feel good. Whether or not it makes you mad or bad is a secondary issue which should be treated as and when it arises, not as the rehab be-all-and-end-all. If we’re really going to get anywhere with tackling the problem of opioid abuse, we need to stop worrying so much about causation or correlation, and acknowledge that some people shoot up simply because they enjoy it. How we deal with that motivation is another issue – but it’s certainly something which needs to be acknowledged rather than brushed under the carpet.

Fiends Withdrawal Tales is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

I, NZFiend, have a lot to say. So much so that people constantly accuse me of pushing my own barrow. Gladly, there are people in the world without their own barrows that they perceive to clash with mine…
>ANNE,
>so terribly sorry that I missed your email entirely. OF COURSE I WOULD LOVE FOR YOU TO DO ANYTHING YOU ARE IN THE MOOD TO WRITE!
>
>You can mention whatever you like, just be advised that non-de-plumes are entirely acceptable (and a pretty good idea in general!) 😉
>
>Even if you have written something AGAINST the general view of my writing, I will gladly post it here. Just to let you know, I am not all fire, brimstone, regression, annoyance and cheek. A few of my pieces have been picked up by other mental health and government sites if I would re-write them without any swearing or over the top parody. Of course, this would mean severe editing and re-writing. Things of which nature are allergic to me.
>
>Thank you for writing. It is always surprising and, admittedly, a little gratifying when a stranger takes the time to contact me regarding this wordpress blog… THANK YOU. Am in a little bit of a twisted undies situation right now and… Well… A few new emails really has cheered me and given me some hope. Thank you.

A little about me…
I worked in business management in the healthcare industry after studying literature.
On becoming a mother, I took a step back and decided to indulge my love of writing.
Since then I’ve written on a wide variety of subjects.

post written by Anne Martlew

…. an awesome morning with the football …

Had an awesome morning with the football team Saturday.

Car had broken clutch cable and tried to borrow two others. Long story was that they both died right outside their owners houses….

So, I RODE MY BLOODY MOUNTAIN BIKE TO PORIRUA FROM WELLINGTON. That is a fair hilke, so I cheated. A bag of footballs, a bag with boots, tops and gear…. And a mountain bike. 21km with a few uphills in the middle. Uhm – At 7am saturday morning with my dodgy spine? Not likely. So – TRAIN to Porirua from Wellington… Bike up hill… And…

FIRST ONE THERE.

2015_5_2_field

Beauty morning for it. Just after 8pm and the artificial turf out the back of the old forensic unit at the mental hospital looked stunning. Nothing like the problems the area was known for twenty years previously.

The kids started turning up, and I admit to being a little nervous after the events of the last week with the mother of my daughter proving beyond all reasonable doubt that she is a vindictive idiot and not actually even interested in paying lip service to her daughter spending time with her dad any longer. GROAN.

So, the kids were arriving, the parents were supportive, and I just got on with it. Rubbed one of the other coaches up the wrong way, but by relinquishing the role of “referee” they allowed me to break the rules and spend time on the field helping out my wayward team. The autistic, adhd, deaf and blind people lead by this one eye’d ginga did pretty well. Running around on the field and coaching whilst the game is underway should be allowed at this level. The kids really started working well with it…

One kid is great at being goalie, but I like seeing him out the field too. Hell, it was a great morning. My daughter was there complaining she was injured and attempting to play at half speed. This got her little sympathy, she is quite capable of playing. I know her better than people realise. She listened and ran. She listened and passed. She won player of the day.

Apart from her Mum had told the people whom gave her a lift to the game that I was going to steal her so they were not to let her travel or stay with me. Stupid, but that’s that. After 11 years of this crap, my daughters PLAYER OF THE DAY award was given to a girl who played right back as she had improved so much from the week previous.

Somewhat taken aback, the centre forward who scored all our goals looked annoyed. He will win it, bit today he didn’t listen to the coach and we could have won 4-3 if he had passed the ball on the inside to my daughter instead of trying to run through another three defenders all by himself.


DEMLEGS award for the player who ran to places to support her mates went to a young girl who plays left back. Really brilliantly. She listens, unlike most of the guys… She sprinted back on defence and cut some players down…

The award "DEM LEGS" is in honour of someone whom inspired me to believe in good people again. Thanks DEM LEGS.

The award “DEM LEGS” is in honour of someone whom inspired me to believe in good people again. Thanks DEM LEGS.

After the awards were handed out one of the kids Dads decided to ask if he could say something. “Of course”, I nodded at him. It was the centre forwards Dad… An nice American chap of very very very high esteem in the Wellington political arena….

“I, and all the other parents and supporters, have seen you improve EVERY SINGLE GAME and do you know why that is?”

Sensing impending embarrassment there is a prompt interruption from my good mouth – “Yes, it is due to spending MORE TIME TOGETHER as a team…” wink wink, nudge nudge…

“I, uhm, yes, quite correct. Uhm. Other than that, we really have to cheer your coach, NZFiend….”

Oh crap. Knew that was coming. A couple of Mums and Dads come up and ask quietly if I am okay and what is going on after the dramas during the week with my daughter being taken away and her mother and step dad punching me in front of the team…. I just say “it will be all right… It has to be…” and they nod, not fully believing…

WE DREW 3 – 3

Which, after 8-3 and 6-0 losses is very exciting!!!!

Happy times.


So, the sun is up, the kids have gone and there is another game being played. The same age group, but these kids train four times a week as part of an academy. And boy does it show.

These eleven year olds are playing better looking footy than the Phoenix. But, even then, the left winger listens to my advice and runs when suggested. He does a lot better and looks over to see if I have noticed. I wink and walk off.

He’ll probably never see me again.

But I will remember that little red head with the bullet left foot from the Tawa area. He may just go places with the right coaching and staying in school.


As for me? Feels like the only places I am capable of going are court or jail.

Football training tomorrow night. Really doubt my daughter will be there. Sadly I have no life at all outside of my daughter and football. Something which the vindictive are trying their best to take away.

Police, kids Mum and Family Court vs Me and my belief that I am capable of good.

Guess I’m fucked. Nothing better to do with my whole weekend than ride the whole way back to Wellington.

Which I did.

And now my spine is telling me off for it.

Tomorrow will put a new clutch cable in car. And not go anywhere near my kids Mums house.

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

wpid-img_20141120_101621.jpg

Astounding me is the ability of service providers to tell the Government that health consumers are happier than ever (etc etc)… Apparently the consumers have a “strong” input into services and the changing of the way services are provided.

What a load of shit.

I get email from readers of my blog sometimes. And all the people I talk to on the street. I just got one such email from a guy “S” whom has contacted me before. We have all the same issues as eachother. As does other people. Mr “A”, whom really hates the services in Wellington and has talked about burning the building… Same stories. Every where. ALL THE TIME.

If only 1% of service users say “they are happier with the service” the Government will be told “more people than ever are happier with our services“. The truth is NOT ONE SINGLE PERSON WAS POSITIVE ABOUT THE SERVICE LAST YEAR. 1% NOW SAY THEY AREHAPPIER“.

This is a positive to the people that need the Governments money.

To the rest of us, it is a load of old bullocks.

Another person whom supports me and the crap I do has been writing.

Another “S” has been in Mental Health Ward again recently. He “suicided” late last week and was taken off life supports today. He is breathing for himself for first time. Send him your love. 

All these stories just don’t stop.

They keep coming. And the way the service providers deal with them has got worse.

Yet, they must show growth in this capitalist world. And that they are.

ASSHOLES.

All these stories just don’t stop.
Yet, I am the only one attempting to bring them to you?

Phoenix Wellington Football Soccer

My daughter was a ball kid at the big game on Friday night. Being parent helper was awesome too. Got a pass to go ANYWHERE in the stadium, but just stood on the field near the left hand corner flag. You can see me on tv replays filling up the back of some shots with computer game tattoo’d arms.

The best part of the night… The PHOENIX event organiser comes past and asks if the kids are behaving themselves.

YES” says me

Oh really, WHAT ABOUT YOU?” she says somewhat too encouragingly…

ME? I feel you need to give my arse a decent hard slapping

After a quick look of shock passes, “Heheheeh, you may be held to that….

Made a new friend there……… A little worried the microphones stationed only a few foot away picked it up on TV broadcast. But hey, she chuckled without ill feeling when I mentioned that possibility and we really should have swapped numbers. Although that may allow her many beaus to find ways to smash me…….

 

…….

I am having a TOTALLY SHIT DAY TODAY.

Sometimes I just feel useless. I saw less of my daughter over the school holidays than I do during normal weeks. Combinations of being arrested, other childrens’ birthday party plans and football have left me feeling lonely and useless. Some friends (girls mainly) appear to have ditched me having not replied to any contact from me… One girl I really like, for she really does think and help others, has flown the coup.

So, I go and visit Dad.

The same Dad whom always argues, always tells me I am wrong. Always told me I am ugly.

Just why I would go to my parents house for the first time in months when I need some family and love is beyond me.

What a fucken stupid thing to do.

Now am just getting through the day without doing anything stupid. When your definition of stupid has widened to include “getting out of bed” you know you’re in trouble.

Lucky I have a kid and no drug addictions. Means you just have to look positively.

Self harm is not beyond us. Any of us.

death

…………….

repco

Twenty years ago I was involved with doing some of the first live internet broadcasts out of New Zealand.

http://www.racetothesky.co.nz was one of them.

MONSTA HAS JUST CRASHED OUT OF THIS EVENT.

I should have been there. But, then again… Maybe not. Running around these events, using drugs, perving and inhaling jet fuel…

Triggers.

Better off staying at home feeling like the world sucks.

For it does.

 

 

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.

My kid will be voting soon…

I really hope they are successful in replacing inpatient acute services with a guest house model influenced by the Trieste model where centres operate as street-front facilities where people can get help early and are treated more like guests than patients, with no locked doors or use of restraints.

May they survive any backlashes, In Wellington we know from experience that these type of services can be hard to get off the ground…

Kites trust, via FaceTubes


kites1

Sam McBride, with his diagnosed dyson vacuum cleaner disorder*, was one guy pushing for a house in Island bay, Wellington. It was a good idea, and he may have done well in this role. Unfortunately the community all freaked out and Sam ended up shafting poor assholes like mine in Addiction DisServices instead.

Sam, once a nice young student with ideals he would stand up for, is now just another patsy of Clarissa and a dubious adherence to their own protocols as drawn up by Tom Flewett.

The whole thing is sad. Please read this for more (click here).

Much better things to come from Kites recently include – https://tomstockmann.wordpress.com/2014/12/06/opendialogue-part-1/ 

* The latest DSM-V (Discipline Sadism and Masochism – Virgins) has an updated description of this disorder.
Novartis and Gilead are combining to work on a drug treatment.

 

room

My daughters room, with a large fat cat.

Poster for silly political party on wall. She makes up her own mind on these issues. And right wing capitalist buggers are far from her ideal. Not bad, my ten year old watches more news, absorbs more social feedback and shows more political nous than most University going chicks.

Not bad at all.

The whole thing is exciting.

rat2

 

The rat I had to kill today.

I did mention I am broke and live in a shit hole NZ Government project didn’t I?

This whole thing is rather sad. But it was a clean kill with a shovel. Rat was done for – I did not have spare opiates for aiding it’s passing, so put it out of it’s pain. Rapidly.

Have had to kill a number of things in my time. Never enjoyable, especially when all you have is your bare hands.

It is a real thing. Ending another living things life in order to stop suffering. Human, or silly rat half caught by cats. It really is base level humanity stuff.

Should be taught in PSYCH 101.

tony_bali

I SMELL A RAT!

New details have emerged about a New Zealand man’s trip to Asia to meet his internet girlfriend for the first time, before he was arrested for allegedly smuggling meth into Bali.

Antony Glen de Malmanche, 52, was detained at the international airport in Denpasar on Monday.

The Wanganui beneficiary had travelled via Hong Kong, where he had met his new girlfriend, “Jessie”, after encountering her through internet dating.

Methamphetamine is in the most serious drug class in Indonesia and anyone convicted of trafficking it faces the death penalty.

I, personally, do not know this guy well. But one of my best mates was (is) his best mate.

Look out for those rats mate.

Rat Park

 

The rat that could have been killed years ago.

The rat in the text book that the people at addiction disservices still use to this day.

In order to not give you service you require, they quote from totally outdated and silly sources.

When they all should read this in cartoon form and then read the whole works of Bruce K Alexander and others.

I even paid for the PDF download.
You should too.
Print it and leave it around the office.

Go do it.

And stop practising inter office shibari dyson techniques.

 

 

Samtsirhc Yrrem

Once upon a time there was a little boy who hated Christmas carols and shopping centre festive music.

He liked titles by the likes of Joy Division, Depeche Mode, UB40 even Iron Maiden and Sex Pistols. He was born in ’73. That means music was responsible for the way this guy turned out. Bloody EMI. Click on the band names. The favourite song will load in a new window for your pleasure whilst reading this, the worlds shittest blog.

He wrote his own computer publication and signed himself off as “Sir” K..Ynot.

He was, some would claim still is, left handed.

Signed his name backwards, he did.

Arguably there is a tenuous link to reality via some far flung theory combining left handedness and learning to write using fountain pens and ink wells.

Years later the “K.Y” part of the backwards name turned out to be useful.  6d makes more sense to him than 69. 

It still does.

At age fourty there is another guy who writes crap,
puts a narcissistic “Sir” in front of his handle,
thinks he is clever and even
claims to be capable of rigging elections.

slaterCLICK ON PICTURE FOR MORE

Mr Slater (click above) is a bit of a right wing knob.

Me, being left handed, know all about the way the right suppress the lefties. They call us “reds” and organise witch hunts, wars and pick at as mentally with subtle things like calling us sinister.

Mr Slater and I agree on one thing. We both like CHARLOTTE DAWSON. I like her for all sorts of reasons. I think she may have been left handed. And adopted. There are statistics and those who think these things go hand in hand….

You know what I think about addictions and mental health. Problematic ones that is. Non problematic addictions can go take a running jump. If you need drugs to play football with your kid, or converse with people on your deathbed, then go tell CCDHBDSM and it’s head Mistress to go tie herself up some place nice and quiet. Leave a cellphone just out of reach and leave saying “if I am gone more than an hour, call me”.

After all, it is what they do to a bunch of mental health and addiction clients whom need to sort out their medications over the holiday period.

Addiction to power. Different from being a right wing knob addict. But probably similar enough to have problems getting proper diagnosis.
The Discipline Sadism Masochism for Virgins Manual (DSM-V) will sort out these discrepancies in its next edition.

I have pain.

Constant pain. Sometimes crippling. Mostly just a bloody pain.

I get tattoo’s and the pain in my back seems less for a day or two. Hell, I got these ones over the last fortnight. My birthday and Christmas presents to myself.

O for OarSum. Simply freaken Class A.

geoff_crammond

 

  • Bill Bennett has not sent me a Christmas card.
  • Cameron Slater neither.
  • Nor Clarissa Broderick, Sandy Baigent, Lucy Politini…
  • Tom Flewett would never send me a card. Clarissa will not allow him. 
  • Neither did I get a card from one of my best mates sons who died.
  • None of my mates who died since I gave up drug abuse last year.
  • But wait. No one from N.A has either.
  • In fact, no living person has given me a card or Christmas wish without me sending one first.
    This is Christmas and I can’t be fucked. 

Makes me want to go and use drugs. Hard and long. Repeatedly. Like wanking with a needle full of smack.

But the drugs will not take the pain away.

The day they find a cure for pain is the day I throw my drugs away.

http://youtu.be/985JGeGq_tc?t=34s

But then, I have another eureka moment.
Definitely re-inventing the wheel again.

you can’t fuck the pain away

Not even according to Peaches. And she should know. She looks worthy.
I can just tell.
Some girls get a shock if you say “nice arse” or
flick your tongue out and air guitar with it as you walk past.

Others have worked out you may be a little more than the average pervert builder.

Some turn and wink.
Some turn and abuse.

Some lift their bums higher with their heels and strut off,
leaving a vapour thin trail of expensive perfume and
pheromone like particles discharged by overt displays of power and authority.

Hi, I am NZ FIEND, and I am an addict. 

Hi, NZ FIEND.

Today I am going to share about getting Chlamydia in my eyes………. I may not be Brad Pitt. Nor Stalone. Nor even the rough teddy bear guy that girls want to take home and nurture. But, I am worried. Has anyone here got a “how to tell if you’re an addict” SLA style?

http://www.slaawellington.org.nz/40Q.htm

For fucksakes, bugger. Fuck me. 

Should I really jump into bed with another group of dysfunctional addicts?

Their definitions of recovery seem to be “shut up, have a totally boring life and do all you can to be a good capitalism addict.” Becoming a good “economic unit” is part of every definition of recovery from the industry. “Having a job” is listed by a lot of addicts. This just shows how capitalism has screwed you hard and fast. Shouldn’t having the skills to bring up your kids be more important. Even capitalists should see this.

The kids are going to be much better capitalists if they’re not in jail, on drugs and chasing skirt all day. Spending more time with your kids would probably even stop ADHD (along with banning TV adverts, of course….)

Capitalism addiction is the bloody worst.

You can keep it….  Your capitalism addiction.

I’ll keep mine…. Compulsion to please females pubic areas.

After all, it is not hugely problematic………..
Well, not to the global economy or capitalist markets. I will not change the price your house sells for (unless the purchaser notices the rock climbing equipment anchors in the cieling – in which case the price may actually go up…)
…………….unless you are an ex-partner who kicked me out for giving other ladies orgasms. (sorry)

Unless you are the girls whom I want nothing to do with (other than your sex, of course) as you all give me headaches telling me shit. (sorry)

Unless you are the person whom is so damn straight you got a surprise and crashed when you saw a couple having sex on top of the entrance to the main motorway tunnel. (sorry)

If you’re the policewoman whom complained about a lady with long blonde hair bobbing up and down in front of my waist whilst standing in front of five thousand people at a New Years gig… (sorry you were ten metres below us and couldn’t join in…)

I owe all of you people a great deal of amends.

I owe you.
Would that be cash, credit card or oral?

 

Well, that is Christmas wasted. One step at a time. Entirely fucking backwards.