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


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.


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…….




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. was one of them.


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.



A lot to think about. Not unusually.

Yesterday was wasted. The day before was fucked.

Recovery Perspectives Title

A post yesterday contained some graffix produced by my good self in relation to DRUG ADDICTION RECOVERY and what it means for a service provider and a service user in the environment of our absurd Recovery Industry 2.0 and the medical model of ADDICTION = [medical] DISEASE.

I use “[medical] DISEASE” purely so as not to get into tertiary arguments with people over meaning of “dis” and “ease”.
Really, go away.
No, really. Piss right off. Go tell God I am a Sinner, Left Handed Bugger.

Within the first few months of stopping, after struggling to work out whom I am (what is it we are recovering from?it was time for me to work out whom I wanted to be (what are we recovering to?….)

It is no measure of recovery to join, and blend into, a sick society.
For the millionth time, BRUCE K. ALEXANDER’s “Globalization Of Addiction” is available at most libraries now.
You should be saying “”Thanks NZFIEND. “”
“Thank me by reading it FFS.”

..”& just what
prey tell Mr Narcisist NZ Fiend
are you recovering to?”..

The worlds best Dad would be a bloody good start. Wellington’s best delinquent kids football coach. A half decent advocate for addiction (dis) services clients. A reliable friend. A good neighbour. A creative soul.

And, after that little list, maybe even become someone else’s “better half”.

But, right now? Right now I would settle for being a good Dad and creating a half decent soul.

Yesterday was wasted. The day before was fucked. Violence. Domestics. Kids screaming whilst Mum and Dad abuse and hit each other at 4am…. Birth Mum told to fuck off. Fists. Weapons. Sore heads. Going on drug hunts. Insane driving.

I have books and research on all these topics. From very dirty fighting techniques (had nose or ear bitten off lately?, thanks Dave Courtney) through to how to a brilliant guide on how treat your missus like shit and yet she will still cook you those fucken eggs (Once were Warriors by Alan Duff).
Spending my NZ Government sickness benefit on anything other than limited amounts of mediocre quality food for daughter and me is a big deal. Gabor Maté’s “In the Realm of the Hungry Ghosts” was worth every single lost calorie. I was broke addict struggling to understand. I now understand. I am a broke addict.

This is, currently, my New Zealand. This is my Wellington Housing New Zealand environment.

Hoary Maori BBQ’s. They will get drunk, hit, complain, abuse, intimidate. All amongst themselves. But, when outside my window at 2am, it starts involving me.

Skinny arse junkies will hang out. Whine and moan. Do nothing about it in a positive manner. Start begging at my door. Therefore, involving me.

And, yet, in between it all… Some very good conversation and intellectual progress (on an occasional tertiary level – BEAT THAT!)

Yesterday, attempting to explain proved fruitless.

There were no vegetables in the vicinity. My ADHD writing, therefore, was also devoid of vegies… Quit for the day, vegetableless and fruitless.

Which is close to happening again write at this very moment.

When having less is not more.

Having more ADHD occasionally results in less. Having more PAIN. More STRESS. OBLIGATIONS.

More or less.

I can hear my Spiritual Advisor ™ cringing loudly from a kilometre away.


She is probably screaming between eyes screwed shut.

DEEP BREATH. BREATHE. CENTRE. Relax. Repeat keyword. 

Click For Music, and continue to read in bliss
Time for some music.mushy Time to get on with it.
Time is hitting me in the backside.
It is beginning to itch.
I Wanna Be Well.

Quoting from above…

“Yesterday was wasted. The day before was fucked. Violence. Domestics. Kids screaming whilst Mum and Dad abuse and hit each other at 4am…. Birth Mum told to fuck off. Fists. Weapons. Sore heads. Going on drug hunts. Insane driving.”

If I was ever on a TV news show john_campbell_will_spewwithout having to be violently arrested during some outrageously fortunate (and purely co-incidental) bDSM-V’ing featuring a leather clad Clarissa Broderick ejecting me from the Mein Street Addiction (Dis)Services complex it may go something like this…

“So, you, NZFiend, had a bad day starting early in the morning of Friday..?”

Why, yes John. It was pretty lousy. Not the worst, but pretty lousy.

“Without trying to sound too much like a registered shrink of highest magnitude, could you tell me, and the viewers, more. In your own words, your own time. TV3 is tightening my budget, so just talk away. We may edit it later, but really don’t have the cash…”

Wow. You will wish you didn’t say that shortly. Just don’t pretend you’re a doctor and try to tell me your historic and incorrect views of addiction.

“You’re wasting time……”

Oh, right you are. It all started around midnight. Put a DVD on that had taken me three or four sittings to get to half way. Did I mention my ADHD issues John?

“Oh for fucksake……”

Sorry John, won’t happen again. Will try staying on track…. What was it you asked again? Ahh right. Yeahp. Riiiigggghhhtt……………

Was watching a DVD at midnight…

New Zealand endorses the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples in April 2010.

Although falling asleep whilst having THE RAMONES END OF THE CENTURY DVD playing loudly on the TV, got rudely fucken awoken about 2am by some 100kg Maori biatches slapping and cursing each other. Disappointingly normal behaviour in this small enclave of under educated, yet over drugged, misfit abodes.

Unfortunately for me the human brain does not really differentiate between physical pain and mental pain. Whomever said “sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me” was either deaf or stupid. Or, most likely, selling some sort of religion with large tithe’s.

Other peoples stuff effects us. How can it not?

At two in the morning someone must have rung noise control or police or something. After yelling out the window for them to “please quieten down your over assertive use of language” peace was restored.

“Honestly, that is the most shit story I have ever heard………”

Sorry John, you’re quite right…. An hour later, after sleeping some more and hearing some quite funny tough guy Te Reo along the lines of ….

Ay bro, fucken sum1 narkd on uz cuz. fuk if i fiund owt hooo da fuk narkd on uz cuz. gonna fuk dem up broz. fucken a cuz. yo fuk wotch.” (those who know the awesome sound of real Te Reo will be astounded to know these Maori speak closer to L.A Gang, but with the rythum and speed of Bob Marley on valium. Try this for an example…. NZ, you rock!)

… the mummy and the daddy start slapping each other in the apartment just across from mine. Kid is screaming. Everything is turning to shit. This happens very often. Cops may have arrived. Punches may have been thrown.

I don’t know what happened. I just turned up my favourite Jew gone bad and listened to some good lyrics…

“You mean Jesus? The jew gone bad, right? Out-stanndd-ingg”

You old git. You know damn well I meant Jeffry Hyman of Queens, New York whom became JOEY RAMONE?

Stop trying to upset me John… The DVD stopped and you could not block out the noise. Hearing kids screaming and slapping and punching going on is not good.

And then my head went to other places. My own upbringing. At least this kid knew its Mum and Dad. At least he knows his heritage. He will probably turn out better than me.

I text my Mum with “Not even so much as a text or facebook for your only son and grand kid over Christmas and New Year?

She replied very rudely with some good lines about “get off your high horse“, “anger management classes“, “I will send your daughter something for her birthday”

FUCKEN WHAT?World of Wearable Arts

My own “mum” doesn’t tell me she is in Wellington staying at a motel just down the road for the WORLD OF WEARABLE ARTS SHOW and goes home without even a cuppa with her only offspring… This “mum” who… Well… Fuckit. I am over it.

She finishes the text by saying “DO NOT REPLY“.

Fuck you Mum. Here’s twenty replies. Inclusive of ten variations on “fuck off and die” and ten with variations of “if you go behind my back and contact my child I will actually be angry.”

Don’t know how much you believe in attachment theory and how it relates to ADHD, but there are many and comprehensive studies suggesting such things. Check out my own thoughts in LEFT HANDED IS A CURSE FROM THE DEVIL

So, the day got off to a good start. 

May save the stories about driving, drug quests and others for another day. More likely, they will never see the light of day. But, then again….

“Wonder if the TV3 executives will resort to crowd funding to get this crap edited…………”

Funeral today are ARO ST COMMUNITY HALL.  Old stomping ground of many a young punk style teen... Communists everywhere. Surprised property prices have not declined.

Funeral today are ARO ST COMMUNITY HALL.
Old stomping ground of many a young punk style teen…
Communists everywhere. Surprised property prices have not declined.

My mate died recently. He really liked the Ramones too. Another mates ex missus was mates with this mate. Another mate, whom lives in the apartment two over from me, knows this other mate. Our mate plays in a band. And the other mate is an old bikey gang guy. Another guy has heaps of dodgy tattoo’s and has spent years in jail.

Ooops. Come to think of it. Pretty much everyone in this story has dodgy tattoo’s, jail time and very few teeth. Other than the band member guy. Even the girls in this story have no teeth and shocking tattoo’s. Even tho they are still sexy as all buggery.

“Your Spiritual Advisor ™ will whip your ass for that comment…”

I will deal with that, thanks [winks]…

Years ago someone was murdered. The kids of this person had attachment problems all right. Mainly due to the plain fact their caregiver was now dead.

Pavlova is a meringue-based dessert named after the Russian ballet dancer Anna Pavlova.[2] It is a meringue cake with a crisp crust and soft, light inside, usually topped with whipped cream and fruit.[1] The name is pronounced /pævˈloʊvə/ or /pɑːvˈloʊvə/, unlike the name of the dancer, which was /ˈpɑːvləvə/.[3][4][5] The dessert is believed to have been created in honour of the dancer either during or after one of her tours to Australia and New Zealand in the 1920s. The nationality of its creator has been a source of argument between the two nations for many years, but formal research indicates New Zealand as the source. Picture from whom NZFIEND was photographed with and used in brochures for local community help groups. Just saying.

My mates other mates mate mate sells some crystal meth from time to time. My other mates mate mate ex-missus was being put down. So my mates mate went and had a word to my other mates old mate. One guy was acting pretty cool, getting pavlova out the fridge and sitting there eating loudly.

Rather than try and explain “mates mate mate” we will simply say “person A” huh?

A was eating loudly being the man
B was sitting elsewhere
was sitting there
was my mates mate (oops) with a bit of a grudge.

A had been saying a few things about C ending up like the murdered person whom was murdered about fifty metres away from where I am writing this…

D did not like A for selling shitty drugs. D also goes way back with C.

A started acting all strange, hitting D‘s knuckles with his head whilst laying in a foetal position on the ground doing something similar to crying. A fifty year old biker with jail tattoo’s all over him was laying on the ground hitting his head repeatedly into the floor and D‘s closed hand when an even stranger thing happened.

B came out of nowhere and at about that time a hammer hit the back of D‘s head.

Personally, I have purchased shitty drugs from the area before too. Having consumed them with the dead guy – although still alive at the time – the dead guy then didn’t want to pay me for the drugs he consumed with me. The dead guy knew A too. The dead guys house contained some metal artifacts capable of projecting projectiles rapidly in a forward motion. Some of these things may, or may not, have been pointed at good old NZFiend during some disputes that followed. Only made peace with dead guy a few months before his death. Person C may have been at his deathbed. Person D … Well..Knowing him as well as I do… Really asking him to go easy on person B. Even employedperson as a builders labourer. He was useless with a hammer. Which shows in the lack of impact he had on D‘s shaved head.

 should really not have done this. B is in no way a tough guy. Hell, he can hardly swing a hammer. He has trouble enough brushing his own hair.

Yet, hair we have it. Gave B a lift home from the supermarket after getting a tattoo done last week. He really should not have got involved with all the other mates mates mate mate problems.

The other mate matey mate (D) is more of a genuine tough bastard. He is now not happy, understandably, with having a hammer dropped on his noggin.

Personally, I can totally relate to this. Having been hit from behind with a 4×4 foundation post, a three foot long plumbers crescent, a hammer and a bottle. After being stabbed. After being on wrong end of guns… Well. I feel D‘s pain and annoyance. At least it wasn’t the police with the guns mate. They are the scariest bunch of people when they get their tools out. They are not calm. They are, frankly, a danger to themselves and the public at large.

So, after all this, D gets E to contact good ol’ NZFIEND and look for some crystal meth’. I drive there. I drive here. I drive every-bloody-where. I don’t ask for money. It is a good deed.

Part of my HARM REDUCTION strategy. Harm reduction of a most grass roots nature. Something that the doctors and idiots at chemists, doctors offices, drug treatment centres and N.A would never understand.

For I really do care. 

Doctors and addiction centre workers… Workers the world over… They do not understand that lives like mine do not revolve around set routine. I do not get up at 7am, go to the office, and come home five or six days a week. Collecting medication at an exact amount, at an exact time will not work for us. Complete abstinence will not work for us.

Engraving of Hippocrates by Peter Paul Rubens, 1638

Drugs, when and how we need them. Just like any person in the world. The opportunity for us to be part of this normal medical model was taken away from us the moment we presented with “addiction” or “dependence” issues. We show up in need of painkillers with a bone sticking out our skin and they will only give us panadol. Did these people ever read the Hippocratic oath“First do no harm” (Latin: Primum non nocere) originated with the 19th-century surgeon Thomas Inman, not the good old Hippocrate at all.

Most drugs are given on a “take two pills, when and if required” basis. As soon as you’re an addict, or mentally deficient in the eyes of the capitalist medical system, you must take EXACTLY 51mg’s of this and 62mg’s of that at 8:57am. Forget the fact that you are busy one day. And sitting on your arse another. You are awake all night dealing with girls and drama one night. The next tossing, and sometimes turning, yourself to sleep and you don’t wake until midday. After that you have to drive to the middle of nowhere to comfort an overdose victims grieving sister for a day. You miss your 8:57am appointment with the drug hander over people and you get into trouble……


“zzzzzzz…… zzzzzzzzzzzz…. wh-whatt? oh shit….. En-thrallll-innnngggg…..”

Here I am. Here we are. I have been having very little sleep this week. A lady came over one night resulting in about one hours slumber. Then various parties in near apartments. Then I had to look after a girl whom turned up at midnight, just as going to bed. And that meant no sleep, no sex, no drugs. No rock n roll. Just listening and making appropriate noises until the men with the white coats could take her away. Advocacy and caring is not for me full time John. I take it too seriously. Then… Well… Whatever. You get the picture.

“If a picture told a thousand words, would it shut you up?……”

Now now John. Here’s $5 for some video editing time…. Can we blank out all the references to real people John?

“What, all that crap wasn’t just made up……”

No, John. That isn’t even the half of it.

“Fac-sin-nate-innnngggg….  I was afraid of that……”

Now defunct meeting that resulted in drama and me deciding for the third time to tell N.A to get stuffed.

Now defunct meeting that resulted in drama and me deciding for the third time to tell N.A to get stuffed.

(anonymous is something Narcotics Anonymous should actually practise – they could learn from me John… When  saying “My mates mate mate mates cousins mate ex girlfriend….” you would never guess I am talking about the girl whom is arriving on a bus and staying the night tonight.)

Sorry John, that has to be the end of the stories for now. I need to find some way of getting veges for the dinner she is cooking.

These stories make me think.

And that is not such a bad thing.

“You reckon?……”

The day was not fucked. The day was an experience.

My input, help and mitigation helped others experience of that day be less harmful. Without being able to talk about so many things, I am proud of some things that day.

Not so much the dealings with my undiagnosed mother.

And how all this helped me become a slightly better Dad? 

God Knows.

I believe in miracles…. Ramones again.
For I have made a ringing noise in my ears get louder and my ability to hear even less during the course of writing these three thousand words.

LORDE IS NOT ON DRUGS. But the guy who bet her at the teenage talent quest is…

LORDE IS NOT ON DRUGS.  But the guy who bet her at the teenage talent quest is…

But, then again – Isn’t everyone? FOURTY PERCENT of New Zealand houses test positive for crystal meth’ contamination. FOURTY PERCENT.

Maybe they should start testing the remaining SIXTY PERCENT for traces of needle use…..

Not an official image, just something I did when bored going through opiate withdrawal....


Lorde is not on drugs.

She suffered a bit of normal human burnout and postponed her tour. She did not end up face down in the toilet after using some dodgy Australian smack. I promise.

But this guy, who won the teenage music talent competition ahead of Lorde, is…jesse

Yes folks, this guy – 17-year-old Jesse Murray – is on drugs. He admits it, he is trying to do something about it. And to get any proper help he has to race off to the media. This is sad. Most people don’t want to go to the media.


If we did not have a huge recovery industry that makes people think “recovery is possible” then a lot of people would not have nice European sports cars and gold watches with diamonds in the middle. Recovery pays some people very well.

I know I have been harping on about this for some time, but we need more of a HARM REDUCTION and SOCIAL CHANGE policy.

RECOVERY has just been added to the U.N charter on drugs (which, rather than the Americans “WAR ON DRUGS” is brilliant, but still thirty years behind the original 1970’s NZ Government report on drug rehab policy!)

Sorry Jesse, your story is annoyingly similar, sad and sympathy inducing. It is annoyingly the same as tens of thousands of other New Zealanders. I hope Campbell Live, TV3 and the country watch as you fail to give up.

I hope we see all the sweating. All the jumping around out of your brain. The self harm. The stress.

I hope we see all this.

But we won’t.

For you have got something most of us don’t – Help from people with empathy. People whom may edit your withdrawal down to thirty second sound bytes. 

I really hope you fail and stay on the drugs.

If you get clean now, in front of a million followers, all you are doing is showing young people that is okay to get totally fucked up. They, too, can join the recovery industry.

I am just jealous. I have no gold watch.

While most looked forward to Easter and having time off, those addicted to synthetic cannabis were dreading it, and shops being shut bring on a whole new meaning of needing a legal high fix.

Footage emerged over the weekend of a queue outside a legal high store in Palmerston North – filmed just before midnight on Good Friday and posted to the Campbell Live Facebook page. The footage shows a large queue of people, desperate to buy legal highs.

Campbell Live reporter Sarah Stewart checked in on 17-year-old Jesse Murray, who has been battling his addiction to synthetic cannabis. He is home with his family after weeks sleeping rough, but still needs to smoke a joint before breakfast every day.

A drum kit is the only thing Jesse owns, as he’s sold everything he can get his hands on to fund his synthetic cannabis habit, and now he’s home, his four younger siblings are wary.

Jesse tried to quit after his mum found him, but after suffering severe withdrawal symptoms he went to A&E for the 14th time.

His mother Erika Perkinson says that after doing 30 hours without synthetics they were told he’d need to reuse before he went into detox so they can see how the chemicals alter the way his body functions.

The hospital can’t comment on Jesse’s case but says that would not be standard advice.

Associate Health Minister Peter Dunne spoke to John Campbell on why help is so hard to find for addicts like Jesse.

Read more:—where-is-the-help-for-addicts/tabid/817/articleID/341079/Default.aspx#ixzz2zkMZFQVG


N.A. Mental Health Ward meeting….

As discussed previously, and I know you all read this blog with avid interest and forget nothing, I really like doing the Narcotics Anonymous meeting at the local “lock-down” inpatients mental health ward at Wellington Hospital. It is not for me. It is not for N.A.

It is for the people in the ward.

The patients benefit. Directly. 

They meet me, and others, and relate to our stories. I’ve become quite good at being able to judge certain bits of my story to suit the level of problems and understanding of the people sitting in the meeting. Usually I have fifteen minutes or more of chit chat. Even with my ADHD, the key points of what makes people tick are remembered in my somewhat confused short term memory. 

I guarantee them that ANONYMOUS is a true thing and that what is said in the room, stays in the room. This is easy for me. As I truly forget peoples names and faces so quickly that many think it rudeness personified when their happy greetings are not returned in the street a month later. “HEY NZFIEND” is shouted, said, waved. And me…? I say “Hello” like they are my best friend. But don’t honestly remember much. This is good in most instances. New Zealand is small. And meeting people in the meeting whom are fathers, lovers or otherwise associated with people whom live in the same block as me… Or ex gang patch members whom once had fights with me over pissing in the gang pads hallway after sitting in the presidents seat…. Well. It is good not to acknowledge nor give time to this side of my life when dealing with these people outside the meeting. Inside the meeting it is all me relating and sharing my own problems so they can see that N.A meetings are full of people that appear different at first, but are the same in the end… This gets rid of some blocks to their involvement in recovery processes and even brings some of them to meetings once back in the public domain.

But, NZFIEND. This post is boring. Even for you. WHERE IS THE DRAMA?

The drama is that, although the meetings do good for the people in the ward, and ultimately spread the message of N.A, some old timers of N.A say that the meetings are not following the N.A structured format and that the N.A message is not carried strongly enough.

I say that MsT and myself have put a lot of effort into making this format more suitable to the level of concentration and the particular needs of the inpatients. I say that we have done well. I say the meeting structure works better than a rigid N.A one. Most of the time anyway.

Peoples attention spans vary. You have to be fluid.

If half the room erupts with applause when you say “GOD” and the other half starts reciting passages from the bible with deadly accuracy (but somewhat confusing logic) that “prove” GOD is Satan, GOD is crap, or GOD wants to KILL US ALL…….. Well… I spent a long night or two re-writing some literature as to avoid “GOD” a little. Honestly, it has saved a lot of pointless and repetitive discussion about something that requires more than thirty seconds attention span. 

The meetings work. People there are genuinely happy to talk. But less happy once the “real” meeting starts. They wander off. Little do they realise they have the seeds planted in them before the meeting even started. They now know N.A is full of people, like me, whom are open and honest about our issues and problems. AND THAT THERE ARE MEETINGS EVERYWHERE WITH MORE PEOPLE LIKE US.

I am not going to ram N.A down their throats until their assholes bleed. If they come to a meeting or the staff contact me to talk further, then it is up to them to engage with the programme.

I see my role as putting a friendly, understanding face to the NARCOTICS ANONYMOUS BRAND. Most of the patients hate the idea of NARCOTICS. They use “P”, Crystal Meth, Pot, Cannabis, Alcohol and XTC. THEY DO NOT USE NARCOTICS!

This can be a big hurdle. The staff nurses are not really that motivated on this front. If I walk around the ward I talk to everyone and convince them it is about “DRUGS” including alcohol. They then come happily.

So, for NOT HAVING A MEETING STRUCTURE (that doesn’t work) and for NOT HAVING N.A LITERATURE RAMMED UP THEIR BUMS, the patients will lose this valuable resource.

N.A people want to can it.

Another reason given is “lack of support from other N.A people”. I say – WHO THE HELL CARES? I actually do better than them anyway. The guys with ten years clean time just bore these inpatients to tears with their long tales of recovery. I actually get CLAPS from people for making seven months! Ten years is possibly totally irrelevant to the newly medicated mental health client.

So. If it is canned, I may just start “DRUGS ANONYMOUS” and do the same thing. Without reading the (C)opyright twelve steps or their prop-up-o-gander of course. But I will encourage them to go to N.A meetings.

But then I will also be able to encourage harm reduction strategies and alternative treatments. Even I, as a N.A representative, know my place. Even I will not advocate other stuff at an N.A meeting.

Beat that. Maybe this shows that fourty years on this planet is not entirely wasted.

And it is my daughters tenth birthday tomorrow. I have her for the day following. 

The drug testing place put $800 in my account. Don’t know why so small, or so much. Must check email one day soon. 

But what I do know is that I am not spending $800 on getting wasted in any way, shape or form.

This is, itself, something to be proud of.

PS – 

Was a little confused as to why the head staff there were under the impression the meetings had been stopped. We alternate every Tuesday with A.A.

I was surprised when they told me A.A did not show up last week.

But then it all became clear later in the week when talking to spiritual advisor and other mental health workers in Wellington.

The RIGID and REGULATED and RESTRICTIVE meetings that A.A hold have had complaints about them. These complaints were not taken seriously at first, but they have gone up to senior hospital management via various means. I know what the complaints are, and how they effected the support workers and peer buddy systems in helping with their addicted clientèle. All that can be said here is that MsT and I are on the right path.

N.A may not be.

A.A definitely isn’t.

Today was a bit ADhD

Goddam. I forgot I had some appointments today. Luckily they rang and rescheduled for tomorrow. Useless.

But what I did do was this… I left the house to go get a stake to hold up the damaged fruit tree. I decided hunger was getting the better of me, so ate the tattooists sandwich on my way past. Noticed his step was untidy. Found some black rubber paint and a paint brush in the back of my car (as you do) so painted his step. Then convinced him to scan in some photos for the sign outside… And then drunk a few coffees….

Then did this….

Then went to meet the nice lady whom does the mental health ward meeting quite often. She is the same one whom seems to have “defaulted” into becoming the manager, accountant and boss of the meeting.

We got there late and found other people there. Awesome.

Unfortunately on the way in, our star pupil from previous episodes was outside having set fire to a few things and telling the world loudly how she had “shot up meth” and was going to take anyone on that she could get close to. When she saw us she said calmly “hey guys, I tried to ring you…” It’s a real shame. I think she is actually just yelling out for attention and help. Deciding to jump off her fragile reality fence right at the moment when the N.A people were showing up is an interesting comment in itself.

I like her. But the police don’t. The sent out many cars, many officers and many grumpy attitudes. I stood and tried to be supportive… But the police looked my way, and you know what I am like with those fuck wits. I entered the ward and left them to it. Damn them.

I really dislike someone else whom was there. Always talking over, never to, you. Always putting you down. Asking questions and then simply saying “forgive me, if I don’t bother listening to the answer”.

What a funny guy.

Funny guy should go try talking like that with psycho chick outside.

Now, that would be fun. I could arrange it.

And Lorde just won the NZ Best Song award. Well done Ella.


Mental Health Ward Narcotics Anonymous Meeting

Bloody awesome. Feel real good right now. Meetings are meant to last one hour, but I got there a little late after a big day meditating on car parts.

Had decided to go rip out some seriously heavy (90kg) parts from the back of a wagon out the Hutt. Had a busy morning. Took a few old bikes to the free bike workshop place in town, took some scrap metal to the recyclers. Beautiful sunny day in Wellington.

You can’t beat Wellington on a good day.

The tattooist guy wanted to borrow the 1999 Ford wagon to go pick his kids up for the holidays. So I decided he could help me remove these parts. Having done these parts myself half a dozen times before, I know damn well how hard it is and how heavy they are.

Thank f ck he is a tattooist.. He did well enough, he has big hands, and is no slouch in the melon department, but thank f ck he is a tattoist. Not a mechanic. 

I was the one who had to crawl under the car cracking nuts and bolts. I am not that strong, but can surprise you when needs arise. It’s more a willpower thing than an actual strength thing. Here is a photo of my bath. I took my dirty clothes off and threw them in the bath whilst I had a shower. I don’t think his clothes would have made the water in the least opaque.


We never fail to have a really loud laugh when we’re together. Sometimes even it is me who gets us laughing. Told him he was being paid $50 to help me for a few hours. Then, once he had helped, told him I was charging him $60 for borrowing the car. Turns out he’s a big softy, didn’t punch me at all. Cares for, and has empathy for everyone and everything. But you’d never get him anywhere near the mental health meeting.

No fucken way.

But who does go to the meeting is fast turning into my favourite person met through N.A. Astute, well read and keeps an open mind to learning stuff. We have little differences, mainly due to what we have read stating conflicting arguments, but if I was her I would listen to me. If I am me (and I am) I would listen to her. And I do. This is good. A kind of mutual respect thing which I am still trying to work out if it’s one sided. She may be just humouring me. She has more to do with Sam “I put my penis in my dyson all the time and have no time for addicts” McBride than I ever have. Have a sneaky suspicion that he is not top of the pops on her Christmas card list.

That is where we are different. He is top of the list on mine. He will get the Christmas card full of sloppy dog poo mind you.

Honesty. Is it the best policy?

Not all the time goddamit. 

So, this ward meeting. Same two mental health ward victims as were there last time.

Bloody brilliant. Not a brilliant N.A meeting as such, if you consider it against a perfect model N.A meeting. However, was brilliant. In the sense that I feel good, others feel good, and the message that N.A helps is getting out there.

I got asked to share by the “boss”. As she read out the rules of the meeting I / we decided to write up a user friendly introduction to the ward meeting that can be printed out and given to the staff and left on the ward for patients to peruse at their leisure. Every meeting we spend a number of minutes trying to clarify how the meetings are supposed to work. This works fine with older people, or the less insane, but in the world of short attention spans that is Ward 27 it is a stretch to get the point(s) through.

Our subject today (as it has been three out of four times at mental health meetings) was “anger”. I think I made sense. Somewhat. (Cheesy grin)

Then one person told us their story and the other listened politely (as well as possible given the circumstances of being in a locked ward and current levels of reality)… Was very good to hear a story. So similar to me. Everyone is similar. I really need to get funding for my own studies. Once I get through this summer and learn to sit still long enough to finish things I start……..

Interruptions at a “normal” N.A meeting are a severe breach of protocol, punishable by institution, jail or death. At Ward 27 interruptions are normal. They are to be expected. Discouraged somewhat perhaps. But expected, tolerated and dealt with on a case by case basis.

What can you do? We are there to share our experiences and hope. I am still working on the sharing of wisdom. I am better with answering questions. In short bursts at that.

Much better to encourage open dialogue than shut people down.

Towards end of meeting I see the nurse looking in taking notes. The nurse must be doing the “obs”. They keep a close track on these back at the Ward HQ. They can, more than likely, decide your fate under the mental health act based upon these observation reports of your behaviour. “Seen a lot with that punk rocker who reeks of alcohol” is probably an observation to avoid on your chart. You may be better off sitting in an N.A meeting talking relatively coherently. I just wish the nurses could hear some of what goes on. Damn good stuff.

I was running a little late and got a text message when at the top of the ramp leading to the doom. Had parked in Newtown earlier at supermarket to avoid the city parking wardens and walked to meeting. The text read “where the fuck are you?”. Well, honestly, it didn’t say that. But if she was me, that’s what it would have said.

Me, being a twit, replied “thought I had sent a text” which was true. I had started writing a text ten minutes ago saying “I am a bit late… Sorry” but didn’t send it as got sidetracked.

I knew she would get this text and be confused. I also knew she would be sitting in the seats in the foyer waiting.

I was correct on both counts.

Soon after seeing her I decided to be less ambiguous with texting from now on. Sorry for any harm, emotional or otherwise, caused by my misdeeds. 

We make amends to all those we have harmed….

Other than Sam McBride. He can frame the sloppy dog turd I am sending him on December 25th.

Mental Health Unit N.A meetings…

I now know some people actually read some of this writing. I know this because I put a feedback form on the last post, and some people replied. 100% of the people actually were basically N.A walking, talking, breathing N.A adverts. That is fine.

As I have said all along, before ever going to an N.A meeting… Rule number one, is never talk about fight club. But, wait, that was a different fable… Rule number one of this fabulously fabricated fiendly fable was “keep an open mind.”

Which, prey tell, I am attempting. 

I am not 100% on N.A, the concepts of higher powers etc etc etc. As discussed previously, A.A and subsequent twelve steps programmes all come from a pretty staunch church sect and they insist that addiction is a disease.
(Please see (got-a-new-key-ring) post from last week…)

But, all these problems with N.A and the foundations of their movement (fellowship, whatever) still don’t mean that I will stop going or that I hate it that much. I gave two people my number this week as they wanted help with various things. At my ninety day clean time key ring thing someone started commenting about how good I was at the Mental Health Locked Ward meeting, showing unbelievable patience and empathy. I think they mean in comparison to my usual impatience and random abusive outbursts.

These meetings are every second Tuesday through the double air-lock security at the mental health unit.

I like these meetings a lot. 

In the first place I was not meant to be allowed to attend due to “lack of clean time.” But, I simply said I would lie and claim years of clean time. In the end we worked out a way around the strict rules and regulations set down by N.A with regards to H+I (hospital and institution) meetings whereby I could attend.

And, I am bloody glad I do. Have been to every one since walking in the doors of N.A three months ago.

Sometimes I make a real connection there. On a couple of occasions the more senior members have even said “thank fuck you were there. You’re awesome…” Obviously it helps having walked the streets of Newtown and Wellington from a young age. Although not meeting anyone I actually know in the wards, I have met a lot of people whom I could have known.

Which brings me to my point for the morning….

What is the Point?

Someone at N.A who is quite a “leader” if given half an opportunity (yeah, he can be bossy) has come to a few of these Mental Health meetings and took it upon himself to raise the issue of needing more people to go during another meeting. He tried handing out fliers advertising the meeting and the twelfth step which says “we can only keep what we have by giving it away” which roughly translates to “do some service for others”.


I do not do it because it is a rule in a N.A book.

The stigma is quite amazing actually. 

At the start of the “Locked Ward” meeting I stick up the N.A signs and twelve step rules on the wall and the mental health patients all run a mile. “Narcotics” are bad. They are not on “narcotics”. They are all just addicted to benzo’s, crystal meth, pot, beer, spirits, methadone, morphine or poppy. They are not narcotics addicts, no fucking way! They stay away in their droves!

At the end of the Newtown N.A meeting Mr ‘Clean Time’ tries to hand out N.A pamphlets for the mental health ward meeting. “No way are we going to a mental health ward. I have trouble even driving past it, never mind stopping at it” was one ladies reaction. Others had a quiet word to me outside later and all were fairly sure that the mental health unit was a complete no go. There is no way they are associating with mental health, no fucking way! They stay away in their droves!

Well, fuck me Batman.

What’s that Robin?

I think, what we have here is a paradoxical human environment.

Get off the crack you Lycra wearing wanker.

What I mean to say is, my esteemed capped crusader, that all the people whom identify as “addicts” every day at N.A meetings are constantly saying that they are “fucked in the head” and are left with all these strange thoughts, suicidal feelings, feel like they are left out of society, have problems socialising, have been abused, have been………………

Fuck Robin. I am getting the picture…

Do I have to explain more for the American audience Batty boy?

Don’t fucken bother toss pot. No one from America would read this far anyway.

Help me Obi-Wan, for you are our only hope.

Dude, you are not Princess fucken Lea from Star Wars. Although, those tights are quite fetching….

Some pictures then, thanks to, the worlds most private search engine…

What the N.A people think of mental health wards


What ward patients think of Narcotics Addicts

Actual mental health ward

Possibly a narcotics addict builder

I have said it a few times here, the whole “recovery industry” thing is driving me up the wall.
There are people at the top of the game whom speak at the likes of TED conferences but then there are the many whom are just writers or pushers of a narrow philosophic field that works fine for people whom it works fine for. But advertising your book as “recovery that works” is crazy talk.

You belong in the ward I visit every second Tuesday.

Bring back the stigma.

It is *NOT* cool to be a recovering addict. It is the first step.

The next step for the problematic addict is to deal with the emotion, the bi-polar, the ADhD, the PTSD, the depression, anxiety, social issues, OCD, strong phobias, ASPD…… Hell, some are even left handed!

Just about every letter of every acronym in the mental health dictionary shows up at every N.A meeting.

Including stress…