Maybe this wall of my kids stuff should be thrown away. Fucken well burnt. Publicly.
Doesn’t give me any happiness seeing it. And…. I don’t know. I thought where I am would be far enough. Don’t think so. It is small town NZ and not knowing anyone…
Am missing being a Dad, don’t know what my life is any more. Am struggling with what to do.
At least life is okay in one sense — it’s not having to deal with family court and lying shit heads. Is that even positive? It is compared to April and May (June, July too come to think of it…)
So, the Police are still pursuing more charges against me, even though TWO judges have said interesting things… First judge said something along the lines of ..
“No matter how much I would like to remand NZFIEND in custody, I simply cannot remand a person in custody on a charge that has no merit…”
The second judge said something along the lines of…
“As it stands this case is hardly worth the effort, I urge you (Police prosecutors) to have a long look at this and do something about it. (Prosecutor squirms, Judge notices). I realise you are getting orders from further up on this one, but I will set down a trial for HALF AN HOUR since you are pursuing it.”
This really means the Judge is telling them to piss off and try varying the charge again. They have had two attempts at putting forward a case that would stick, and the Judges have told them “no merit” and “have a long look at it and do something about it”.
Meanwhile the tax payer and myself lose money, time and trust in the silly system and the vindictive Police managing it.
I post tweets, they get instantly deleted. I can see them on my account, but on other accounts they simple never appear.
I had the police show up at 4am demanding to talk to me about a bloody tweet I sent that was supposed to be stupid humour. I was told a well respected journalist had complained about me. She, whom happens to be very well followed on TV – much of her stories are inclined with investigating Police and CCDHB fuck ups) totally did not complain. Someone did, but not her.
The Police (at 4am) knocked on my door. I opened it a little bit, keeping foot behind it.
Police “Hey NZFIEND, step outside, we need to talk”
“These tweet and public media writings of yours”
“what the fuck?”
I open the door so they can see me better. One man with suit and tie and clip board (at 4 fucken AM for godsakes!) and one uniformed officer, looking a little bemused. Who knows how many others were hiding around the corner.
“We have had complaints”
“I have a complaint too –
The police, facebook and twitter are censoring my writing illegally.”
“Oh, well, we aren’t here about that.”
“Of course you fucken ain’t”
“We are here about this tweet reading … __________________________”
“Oh piss off, you are kidding…”
“No, we are not kidding.”
“Are you telling me that
Miss ____ _________
complained about THAT?”
“Why else would we be here?”
“Surely she would have seen it in context of other communications and realised it is intended as humour?”
“Obviously she did not”
“Are you telling me she complained?”
“Why else would we be here.”
I slam the door and tell them to fuck off. A little respect each way would be nice. I left it a week or two and contacted Miss _____ _________ myself and she replied within hours stating she had not complained (probably had not even seen the tweet in the first place!) but her company does have a policy of alerting authorities to such matters.
Even then, I doubt the Police would go to everyone whom made a obvious sarcastic tweet at 4am.
The Police have been looking at my cellphone and my cellphone had told them I was coming home at that time, having been away elsewhere. I was sending texts to someone whom was concerned I was a little too tired to drive etc etc etc…. Ten minutes after getting home, POLICE knock. Interesting maybe.
And this young lady has learnt to drive a manual (stick shift) pretty well. My car is not easy. It is complicated, moody and horrible. Yet it quite likes this young lady.
As do I.
I am proud of me sometimes.
Just need to remember it on a daily basis.
My gratitude list still only ever gets to “being able to walk”.
She is always telling me to make lists.
She is twenty yet considers herself to be my mentor.
I may yet take her advice on lists.
- “Being able to walk, piss and poo by myself.”
- … Who cares….