It's nearly 2012. Shit!

Another oldie ... seems to fit with the vibe though.






Pictures: Mum and Claire at Piha RSA on Boxing day, Claire on her phone thing at Piha, a few pics from White Beach ... and my reunion with Lou and Becks!

I've done a little witchy ritual to let go of any fears and anxieties from 2011, and to invite in what I want for 2012. Lit candles, burnt the list of the unwanted.



The collective unconscious must be gathering speed; I can feel change in my body if I sit still. It feels like a wave in me. The way you feel when you've been on a boat or jumping around in waves all day at the beach, only it's in my blood or that which we might call Soul.

I've asked Jesus and Lady Death, two wonderful representations of divinity I feel I can relate to, to give me a bit of a hand this year. I already notice what's been at work - old and tired energies are leaving. Friendships are shifting too. I actually did a prayer to Lady Death regarding people in my life: show me what I need to let go of and bring in that which is good. That week some pretty amazing shit happened, but I'm not at liberty to describe all of it as I'm still unsure as to what's happening in a friendship.

I've been re-reading some of "Women Who Run With The Wolves" by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. Estes is a Jungian analyst who 'draws on a huge range of myths and stories to teach us how we can reclaim, and rejoice in, our true feminine power'.

Lady Death/Skeleton Woman:

'If it is love we are making, even though we are apprehensive or frightened, we are willing to untangle the bones of the Death nature. We are willing to see how it all goes together. We are willing to touch the not-beautiful in another, and in ourselves. ....
Archetypally, to untangle something is to make a descent, to follow a labyrinth, to descend into the underworld or the place where things are revealed in an entirely new way, to be able to follow a convoluted process ...
Fear is a poor excuse for not doing the work. We are all afraid. It is nothing new. If you are alive, you are fearful." (Pg 147 and 148, WWRWTW.)


I'm trusting that the Divine (higher self whatever you want to call it) knows what it's doing if I'll just listen and let things unfold. Know my boundaries, be clear about my intentions, then watch what happens. Speak my truth without trying to guilt anyone out. Admit when I'm a dick. Walk away if someone else is too much of a dick. Sounds quite simple when I put it like that really.

What I also want is to bring a loving meaning to the world. I don't mean I have to touch a million souls. Just a few is enough for me. I know I've done it before. I want to keep doing it.

Years ago an old flatmate rang me out of the blue. I hadn't seen her for years.
"I just wanted to thank you" she said.
"Oh! For what?"
"Well when I was in that flat it was one of the hardest times of my life, and I don't know if I would have lived if you weren't there."

If ever I'm feeling a bit down, I need to remember that. I made a big difference to someone. She thinks I helped save her life. All I ever did was hug her when she walked in the door, looked into her drug fucked eyes and kept telling her I loved her. That was long ago. She didn't keep in touch, and I knew why. Some experiences from that time had to be left behind, and I was part of that history. It doesn't hurt me because I get it. I love her still, though she's not someone I ever see.

So the theme song now would be 'wave of mutilation'.

Happy new year


Love to you all. Keep with it. xxx

Christmas Day, Boxing Day, Hey Hey Hey.

Christmas day was good in it's way, but tried to cram in a bit too much, you know how it can be. It was really nice having a blended random family breakfast at Mission Bay with Tieneke, her son J, her brother, mother, father and her brother's friend. My Mum came too of course, and the breakfast was really good. I had french toast with bacon and bannana. It probably wasn't a happy pig (raised lovingly, killed quickly), but I swallowed any guilt and enjoyed the meal.

After the breakfast mum and I went back to my place, fell into a dead sort of sleep and then were awoken by Karen texting me asking when we were arriving. Karen is my Uncles' ex wife; we were invited over to have Christmas turkey with her, the kids and Rob, her funny and kind fiancee. One of Rob's sons and his girlfriend were also there, and it was really easy and enjoyable. So lovely to have a few family members who care. Hey man, it's quality, not quantity as they say. Just as well really.





Song of choice today has to be one of my favourites of all time, The Slider.
"I have never ever kissed a car before, it's like you don't." Well done Marc Bolan. He refrained from kissing or driving cars but it didn't prevent him being killed in one.




It's pouring with the kind of warm December rain one comes to expect. I went and had a long lunch with Lou and Becky in Devonport and was once more privy to this amazing easiness of connection; you'd think I might feel rather out of the loop, but I don't. We all have filthy senses of humour which helps immensely. Actually, maybe it more than helps. It's essential.

I'm continuing to date, getting lots of attention on ye olde dating site and have recently had a few hook ups with someone, but we're not comapatible really. He's not very relaxed, and I don't tick a couple of boxes on his wee list either, so that's cool.

It was still nice to enjoy a bit of affection and attention. It's funny with the 'list' thing. My list goes something like "tall, funny, relaxed, a bit odd in some way, hopefully a biggish nose, kind, silly, good taste in music, likes art ... loves swimming in the ocean with me". Carolyn Cranshaw did challenge it when I went and saw her for hypnotherapy. She had said "what if you met someone and he was perfect, but he wasn't so into swimming in the sea". I said "absolutely no deal." Funnily enough, one of my outings with the Painter was at Piha, and he didn't come into the sea with me. He sat on the beach smoking. And I didn't mind. So the list thing can be a little bit bullshit really, though it can be handy to know what you really will not tolerate. I've decided that someone being too much of a dick is off-putting. A little bit of a dick, that's fine!




Anyway, all this focus on boys, it's nutbar city. Time to calm the fuck down. Becky reckons I might need to go to Loveaholics Anonymous (ok, it's not called that, but you get the gist).

I have such gorgeous and loving friends, and on Boxing day went on what turned out to be a bit of a wine picnic with Claire, Mum and Peter. It was so lovely and relaxed. Peter had bought wine, strawberries and blueberries and we all just sat on the beach, drank and picked at the red and blue fruit. God knows what we were all talking about. We then went on to the RSA, and I was already a bit intoxicated by this time. I'd forgotten to eat enough during the day which is not like me at all.

The fish n chips at the RSA was AMAZING. GOD. Fuck. Yum.
Hey, that'd be a good name for a band "Godfuckyum". Anyhoo, the snapper was so tender and the chips utterly perfect.

The day after boxing day Peter and I went over to White Beach. He was Mr Speedy Arse and basically run over, but I always take that journey easy. I like going slowly, feeling the energy of the land and trees seeping into me as I slow down the usual chatter in my head. I wasn't offended that he went ahead though, it was fine. Went for a bracing swim and then took photos when the tide was low. We both went off into our own little worlds taking pictures.

White Beach

Holy
heavy honey bones
fleshed on land
rockpool eyes
soft inner thighs

the sea
in me
in me
in me

feel the spaces
unfathomable

a chorus of clouds overhead

CNL





As usual, I felt something shift after walking over to White Beach and back. It seems like there's something really powerful about that area. Went to the RSA again for din dins (this time a lamb buger!).

I went to Bikram Yoga yesterday (first time in four days) and it was really intense. The girl next to me fainted. I was sweating so much it looked like I'd just immersed myself in a pool. I watched my reflection. I stared into my own slightly bloodshot eyes and thought "so what are you going to do with this determination?".
Create meaning. What else is there?

Create meaning.

Christmoo Eve! I'm content! Yes, really!!!

Christmoo Eve:

Well my little reindeer pies, it's been a right whirlwind of delights lately, and no, I'm not being sarcastic.

Last Wednesday, thanks to Tamasin's kind persistence, I ended up joining her and associated posse to see Andrew Keoghan playing at the Q bar. I found his music incredibly healing and transformative. His voice is really pure; something holy in me unfolded in the hushed light. I particularly like gigs where it's quite small, still personal somehow.

On Thursday I went to Bikram Yoga and took ages to recover at the end of the class. I lay there breathing through my nose like a woman in labour (well, the ones I've seen on TV anyway). I then had burgerfuel (mmm) and onto Golden Dawn to meet up with Lou and Becky. Now folks, these are girls I went to high school with, and in all honesty, I never imagined I'd feel the need to truly re-connect with anyone from high school again. Fortunately facebum made me see the error of my ways and these two fine women are now back in my life in a very real way.





It was amazing to sit and look at people who are at once completely familiar and yet you do not know what's been going on for them for 15 to 20 years. You only know via a social network, and it's a social network in which it's possible to manipulate your image for better or worse. Even if depressed you'd be able to paste on a smile and put it on Facebum to prove you're actually ok. Or maybe you're trying to show the world you're moody, mysterious and not about to let the facebum founders get any free marketing info, so you pretend you're a man if you're a woman and put up one of those Walmart shopper pictures for your profile.

Heart Magical, not Mental Magical:

Er, yes, getting back on track. Becky now lives in New York and is here on holiday, Lou is in Devonport with her husband and yet we were talking as though we'd only seen each other the previous week. Actually, it was better. It was far better than I could have imagined, because now it's like we're the technicolour version of our childish selves. We're coloured in. We have lines. We have stories. We have an awareness of the story itself and how we choose to tell it. It was magical, and I don't mean mental magical, I mean heart magical. That feeling, that 'being seen-ness', and also the privilege of seeing. The wisdom of these two, the tenderness of heart, it was that feeling of 'home' in another soul.

Afterwards I called in to say hello to Alice as she was supporting her man playing in a band up the road. Music was not exactly my cup of tea, but it was good to see sweet Alice.

Another reunion: Handsome Rob!

So on Friday, I got to see Rob! Now I don't know if you'd remember that I did a foundation year of art and design in 1992. That's the one where my friendship with Chris continued, and I used to sit at this table with the boys. I recall this girl Sally who was in our class. That's the Sally who had the misfortune to marry Mathew Ridge. She was quiet and stuck with the only other girl in the class who'd gone to 'Dio'. The boys all used to get instant hard-ons around Sally.

I had the gall to ask her what it was like to 'look the way you do' on one occasion, and she got really pissed off and said "I'm just like anyone else". I said "well yeah, except you look like a model, so surely you must have to deal with a different set of reactions" (As I sat with the boys I knew they were in awe of her long limbed, blonde be-blazered glory). There was a girl in the class who started wearing a blazer to copy Sally. We all knew it. I don't remember her name. Sally couldn't deal with my direct questioning about the beauty myth (ha ha, that hadn't come out yet) but seemed insulted. She might have pondered it since, but then, maybe not. A nice enough girl though. Wore blazers very well.

Ah, got distracted there didn't I? Well, back to Handsome Rob. Rob was one of the most brilliant artists in the class. He and Chris had that incredible technical proficiency coupled with imagination. I had imagination. Rob did things far beyond all expectation, he was a fucking genius.

We remained friends for a number of years beyond art school, and much of our connection involved way too much drinking, talking and thinking. It's now a bit of a mystery as to how the friendship tapered off. Perhaps it was because I spent so much time with Sarah and now spent every weekend binge drinking with her? I can't quite remember to be honest. There were overlaps. There were (eek) casks of red wine. There were more embarrassing stories than you took shake a dirty old stick at.

What I remember of Rob was his intelligence, gentleness, excess drinking and amazing level of talent. Seeing him this week was incredible. He's the most amazing man. He's married a woman he is clearly deeply in love with, and he's as kind, insightful and gentle now as he was 20 years ago. Now it's mellowed. It's fucking gold! Alchemy in people is the most beautiful thing to ever behold. I am so looking forward to meeting his wife at some point.

Dinner with Simon

So last night I had dinner with Simon. A very nice dinner at a posh set up on the waterfront. No, I'm not back in love with him, but it was good to see him, and sure, there is an amazing physical chemistry. That's ok. I have it in perspective.

Afterwards I called in to the Thirsty Dog because Fliss was playing keyboards in a metal covers band. It was already late, and I lost her. I drank a lemon lime and bitters and observed the crowd. The first band up were this throwback to the eighties, M.O.M. Was it ironic? I don't know. I grew weary and left. I couldn't cope with the leather trousers.

I fell into bed when I got home. Yes. Content. No anxiety wheels turning. Free and floating into dreams.

Yes, more Internet Dating, but I'm gonna be tough(ish)

Something better change. It's an old song for the new year.

Thing is, things have changed so fast and so often, I feel like I can barely keep my head on at times. Fret not, it is affixed fairly well, and I am truly appreciative of those who have contributed to this state!

Had a lovely avo with da mamma yesterday. She made me nice sandwitches (witches?) and we had some really funny conversations that cheered me up immensely. Ah, one was a play on words. I was being horrible about some old trout (can't even think of who I was slandering now) and pondering if she'd had a hysterectomy. Mum thought I'd said a 'mysterectomy'. So we decided that was a good word anyway. Mum made up the definition to follow:

Mysterectomy: something has been removed, but you're not sure what it is.

Been busy with social engagements as one does tend to be at this time of year. Had a nice drinks date last night with a blue-eyed Canadian. He was very handsome, nice, possibly a little highly strung. Yes yes, I know, what the fuck ... I'm back on Internet Dating! Ha ha!

Geeze, you'd think The Painter would have put me off until the new year wouldn't you? But I think I'm going to just be a bit tougher about it this time. I think it's not really what was done, but how it was done. I need to remember that he wasn't actually trying to hurt me. People are funny and confused, especially if they have a history of addiction and mental illness, I should know that by now. It's all a learnin' that's for sure. Still learning and always will be.

Here is a weeeeeee poem for your pleasure:

The Undoing

Between Jesus and Lady Death
I lay down
and innocence undid me

we are naked
unashamed
reaching for the tears
that wash away this fear
of being seen

I saw you
I sipped upon your sorrow
I did not turn away.



Merry Christmas to those who see, who stay, who do not turn away. And merry Christmas to those figuring out how to do it. ;)

727 / Merry Christmas (I Don't Want To Fight Tonight) * THE RAMONES

Another classic Christmas song.

The first time I heard this was when my friend Chris Skelton made me a mixed tape that included The Cramps classic 'bikini girls with machine guns' and this really dirty sounding version of 'No Particular Place to Go'. I've still never found out who sang that version, but I liked how the agressive and frustrated sounding singer makes it pretty clear that the stuck seat belt is getting in the way of sexy times.

Update: I think it was The Meteors, but if you look on Youtube you can't find the version I heard which was live and incredibly raw.

I was a confused 21 year old. I was still a Christian, but horny, musically curious and longing for Chris Skelton to figure out he was actually in love with me. He wore a leather jacket, his dyed black hair sprayed into a fifties quiff, his love of Elvis equal only to his love of executing precise art. While he never fell in love with me, hanging out with him and his lapsed Catholic friends was a pretty good second. I was sort of like a sister. None of them wanted to fuck me, and most of them were deeply in love with drugs. The Chilli Peppers sang about Catholic school girls and how they ruled, and I felt Catholic boys might have merited a song of their own.

I made two friends on that Pre-Graphic Design TOPS course (these were courses for those languishing on the dole), one was Chris, and the other Jacinda Klouens. I was still brimful of preachin's n teachin's, but that wasn't going to stop me borrowing Jacinda's records and falling in love with The Pixies. Until that point my music tastes consisted mainly of Janis Joplin, T-Rex, Kate Bush and The Who. I used to feel like Marc Bolan was singing for me, and this was when many of my peers were listening to Duran Duran or Wham . I had joined the A-ha bandwagon when I was 14 though. I liked the key-board player. He didn't look as delicate as Morten Harkett, a man prettier than I could ever hope to be.

The TOPS course was pretty amazing, we got given decent materials and good tutors, and we had a really excellent group. There was Adam, a handsome boy, the one I should have had a crush on. He came to Auckland one weekend and stayed at my house once the course had finished, but I blew it by talking about Chris. I had this sort of delayed realisation that Adam was actually pretty hot, but he wouldn't communicate with me after that weekend. It was disappointing; by the time I realised I wanted to kiss him he wouldn't even reply to a letter. Ah life, it's a funny little thing!

There was also Pomare, a beautiful man who did drag shows. Jacinda and I went and saw him lip syncing to a Diana Ross song at Staircase (remember Staircase?) one night, he was truly gorgeous.

Jacinda herself was the very definition of edgy, I loved going to see her band "Fatal Jelly Space" perform. They even put out a record called "Death Fuck Pop".

Chris, Jacinda and I all got the opportunity to get free training in animation, but I was terrified, I wanted to be a 'real artist' and make people, you know, think. I was scared of drawing mickey mouses and plutos over and over again. Jacinda wasn't, and she ended up probably being the wisest of us three. Chris and I applied for Foundation Studies in Art and Design at A.U.T. I scraped in. I wasn't overly talented at art, but I wanted to be.

Music always brings up memories of people and places. That Foundation year was fantastic, this hot guy called Rhys introduced me to The Hard Ons (not his own sadly) and I continued to preach to anyone with the patience to bear it. The Hard Ons seem amazingly dated when you listen to them now. I bought shoes with steel caps in them so that when I went to gigs I could mosh and not get crushed feet. I learned how to jump high enough with my elbows turned out. Weren't many girls moshing, usually much taller boys. I can't even remember what I went to see. Who was I moshing to? I know it was sometimes with Chris, and other times Jacinda, and then when I had that lovely boyfriend Charlie Loughman we went and saw the 3D's. He was gorgeous, that Charlie Loughman. I totally sabotaged that relationship with my Christian anxiety. I asked him to come to Church with me (just to see!) and he wouldn't. He didn't realise I was asking him because I wanted to leave, and I had hoped that in seeing what I was trying to leave he'd help me to do it. I felt like I couldn't say it though. I felt like to admit this outright was a betryal of everything I swore I believed. How could I explain that I was actually feeling trapped in a manipulative cult and that I feared for my mental health? Instead we cried in each other's arms and within weeks he had a new girlfriend who'd been molested as a child.

I should have lost my virginity to him really, he was so incredibly nice and had impeccable taste in music. Also, he was from Christchurch, and as we all know, people from the South Island ooze loveliness in the same way that many Aucklanders ooze cynicism.

This is the kind of thing I think when I listen to a song. It's entwined with all these people and memories. I'm feeling happy and nostalgic. I've always had amazing friends and some of them are no longer in my life, but they are still in me.
What happened to Bruce Ferguson? He was such a good friend, but I think he went and got too cool (and too drugged?) and bumping into him in the street years later, it was as if our weird adventures together had never happened. He seemed embarrassed to look me in the eye, yet when I looked at him I could still see the funny, loping and lanquid 22 year old. Where had he gone? Why was he pretending to be so aloof? Odd.

So many friendships, so many adventures. I have loved well, and been loved so well in my life, and I'm not even half way done living.

Merry Christmas.

A short Blog because I want to post a song!

Lord love my ducklings and bless my bum, this song, old though it is, is somehow new to me. I don't know why, but it fits me like the proverbial. Yes, the proverbial leather glove in all it's kid glory. Cream antique leather gloves that reach the elbow.

It's humid and today I've been to Bikram Yoga and also went and saw Suzanne's performance after she'd done two intensive weeks of dance training.

Bikram Yoga was, as usual, a sort of wonderful torture. I truly admired the big girl next to me, she was going for it and a hell of a lot more flexible than me. Why, I can't even get my face flat down on my knees, that's how much of a slacker I am.

The Bikram teacher was a little bit of a bitch today, but I forgave her because peace came to me as I looked at the patterns in the wood grain on the ceiling. Heaps of genital shapes.

I'm obsessed with sex (but in the nicest way), reading, music, friends, coffee and the sea.

Suzanne's performance was a 13 minute intensive exploration of the struggle inherent in leaving the past behind. The way the able-bodied and disabled moved together was fucking amazing; Suzanne was lifted upside down and throwing herself around with the force of a little tornado. Beautiful and inspiring. I nearly cried; it was so cool to see a physical performance work it's way into my heart like a well-crafted poem, painting or story. Something shifts. It's alchemy.

And so 2011 draws to a close ...

So, December 15th and today's music choice is a fine memory of a song by Mercury Rev. I feel simultaneously raised up and melancholy when I hear it, and it reminds me of going to see them live and knowing that I was put under some kind of spell. Willingly spellbound.

I feel like I've got all this peace that I didn't have two months ago. I've worked for it mind you. I tackled my fear head on and have let pain rush through me like a massive wave. It's incredible that I forgot what it was like to be depressed, that it was this far off story for me until this last couple of months. I now realise why I've been so obsessed with focusing on 'good things', why I'm careful of what I watch or listen to ... I'm just a little too sensitive and can't seem to filter things as well as many people do.

I've started on my book (the lost book!) again, I'm getting stronger physically and mentally, and I know I never run from the truth (or a lie should it confront me).

Dec 16th

Today was the graduation for my learners out at the factory in Takanini. A couple of them got up and spoke spontaneously, saying how much they all learned, how they could see a big difference in confidence and communication. I got a bit teary. I hope I get to go back next year and do more literacy coaching, it was really rewarding in the way I have always dreamed of in terms of job satisfaction. I've had so many shit or low paying jobs in the past, so this has been a massive breakthrough for me.

I wonder what will happen next? This year has been so fucking intense. Came back from Korea, had nowhere to live ... relied on the kindness of friends to crash (a big thanks to Andrew, Tam, Claire, Donna, Suzanne, and of course Nanna, who died in April).

I do think Nanna has got in on the act lately in terms of spiritual assistance! Mum asked her to tell God to help me, which I think is really cute (and I think even God might listen to my Nanna, she was one strict school teacher of a woman).

In addition to Nanna dying was the realisation that Andrew and I weren't cut out for a long term relationship (something we'd be realising off and on for six years). I got back into Internet Dating with puppy like enthusiasm, leaping in as if it were a swimming pool. It was a little more like a West Coast beach, or a storm draining leading into the sea.

You'll recall some of my crazier dates (I think the Englishman and The Wanker have to rate as the top two) and of course my disapointments! You might be relieved for me that I am no longer in love with Simon, though I could give him a new nick name as he texts me every Friday with hope in his pants and distinct lack of charm. Good chemistry with awful men never ceases to amaze me. He could now be called Mr Friday, he's getting that reliable. Haven't taken the bait, but then I've only gone without sex for one week now, so it's all good. Andrew is in France with his family and I hope he's enjoying it immensely.I seriously want some cool French Catholic iconography! Bring the Jesus, invite the Mary, I love that stuff. Wasn't allowed it when I was a Christian girlie half a life time ago.

So I've moved across the world, started my life over again, did the CELTA course while staying with Nanna, re-started a relationship, ended that relationship, Nanna died, went on a million dates, thought I'd met someone special and had them do a pooh on me (not literally, I'm not that kinky darlings), and through it all was the enduring love of friends!

So here's to the enduring love of friends as we contemplate the year that's been.

Jesus
yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of bullshit
I shall fear no wankers or dickheads!

Let love in.

xxx

Merry Christmas ... healing, why roll your owns don't offend me as much as tailor mades ...

A favourite Christmas carol for you all!

And so Christmoo approaches.

I also have some photos that Peter took when we were out West last week. Look at those colours, muted pinks and flesh tones, I love it. You can feel the cool smooth sand just by looking at it.

My camera died before I could get any pics, so I'll have to make sure I charge up the old batteries today. There is of course, Piha, and then the one in the dark shows the little 'alien lights' of the glow worms when we went for our night excursion.

Forgot to mention I went to a nice bbq at Tam and Sean's last Saturday, had some good catch ups with the likes of Callum and Nik, also a good rave with Jennifer. Some truly lovely and talented beasts in this world. Callum has been thinking of doing a Smiths themed night for awhile and I think he should DO IT. I'll even bring carnations. Well that might be taking it too far, I don't actually like carnations.

What I do like is the healing session I had with Brennan Practitioner Karen Reid. I saw her yesterday at 11am, and boy, it's all a bit too personal (yes, even for me) to go into but it was exactly what I needed.

Karen does a sort of hands on/energy healing and I find it more effective than Reiki. I also don't expect it to be the only thing to help me, but it definitely assists in a healing process. Better than going on anti-depressants in my case. I totally back this woman, so if you are open to angels and all the kind of carry on I enjoy, definitely check her out. www.thehealingcompany.co.nz

Mum also told me something yesterday that I didn't even remember about myself. Isn't that amazing, that someone can tell you a small detail about you from child-hood, and suddenly you look at your Now Self in a whole different light?

She asked if I remembered that I would sometimes roll my father's smokes for him. In my mind I now recall the yellow packet, the smell, but I can't clearly remember rolling one. It feels like the edge of a dream, one you are trying to recall the following morning.

I'd stay at his place in the weekends, this was when I was about five and six, and if he was on a job I'd go out to the building site with him. I learned to keep myself amused for hours with pieces of wood and a keen imagination.

I remember his worn jeans, brown hair, strong hands. He made lumpy porridge, and then that was the only way I'd eat it. He adored me, and I adored him. Mum said that it was just thought of as cute to see a little girl roll her father's smoke for him. She said

"it's not like you rolled a lot of them at once, just one, and then it was 'here daddy'"

So this small piece of information is on my mind. Mum says he eventually got one of those tins that made them easier to make, and that I then learned how to use that. I was always in pigtails back then, pigtails and sundresses.

I wondered why I hadn't really minded The Painter smoking, and how I felt somehow comforted by it. That I've always thought of rollies as being a little cleaner, and that the smell doesn't give me a headache. I didn't know why I thought this. Now I do.

It's almost Christmas time and it's going to be a good one. I can feel it!

Music, friends, Night Walking in Bush, Bikram Yoga ...

The above date says Thursday, but that's just when I uploaded the video of D.O.E. Today is in fact Monday the 12th of December. Welcome.

Photo to left: A breakfast I Enjoyed ... all grilled with too much olive oil ... mmm!

Mushrooms with blue cheese, tomatoes with cumin and salt mined from Himalayan mountains and therefore ruining the environment (thanks Peter, I love guilt, it tastes delicious), avocado with lemon, eggplant, pineapple (tinned) and of course, pepper.

Christmas approaches ... my current obsession with 'Department of Eagles' continues. Mum said they sounded 'Beatalistic', a sentiment also shared by Peter and Cornelius.

Andrew is in France with his family on a month's holiday, I am so happy for him. It makes my heart go all ocean-like to think of him enjoying this adventure. There was a pot-luck dinner at his flat last Tuesday with his really lovely flatmates, friends and a good feed. I took tomatoes cut in half, grilled with olive oil, cumin, sexy salt and blue cheese, as well as some roughly mixed avocado (couldn't really pass as a smooth guacamole).

We've finally finished being lovers I think, and though the form changes, the love itself is deep, sincere and able to withstand this shift. It's friendship on a whole different level really. Is that what unconditional love is?

Night Walking:

On Friday Peter suggested going to the beach and then for a night time walk in the bush, one he's taken Claire on before. Walking in fading light out in the Waitakeres was really beautiful, and as the darkness intensified we were able to see the alien light of glow worms. We stopped to have a few drinks near a picnic and bbq area and I turned my head in time to see a little owl, a Morepork, alight on a fence to observe us for a second. We talked about all sorts of good shit, and it felt good to have an excellent platonic male friend again. Haven't had that for ages. Back in my 20's I always had good male friends, but as they paired up and reproduced, things changed. Obviously. They're not going to climb up the fire escape of your flat at 3am and ask if you want to go to Mt Eden to get stoned. They now have 2.5 children and a mortgage to pay, or have descended into an excess of drugs and alcohol from which they may never return.

The walk was far longer than I expected it to be, but the smudgy darkness also throws off perceptions of time. We ended up at the bottom of the dam, the sheer wall rising before us, Peter cheerfully indicating the stairs. He bounded up them and I followed behind at a gentler pace. The moon came out to say hello. I dragged my feet on the way back and realised I might accidentally get fit if I continue to do missions with Peter.

Brunch with Corn

On Saturday I took Cornelius out for brunch. We saw a really cool dog on Ponsonby Rd. It had a barrel-like body from which rather spindly, long legs trotted along. It was white, and it's cartoony dog-face was smiling, looking around as if to say "me, me, I'm so glad to be me!".

The owner saw me and Corn looking at pointing at the dog and he smiled proudly.

"That's not the next dog you expected to see" said Corn thoughtfully.

I laughed in excess, for some reason that really did it for me. Because what is the next dog you expected to see? A Labrador?

It was cool to hang out with Corn. We have known each other since I was 21, and flatted together for more than three years from when I was 22. It isn't one of those close, intense friendships, but it's one that feels very comfortable when you're with that person. It seems as if there's not a skerrick (a word he'd like) of artifice. You know who you are, they know, and you both know that you know. It's comforting. We can sit and not talk while having coffee, or we can sit and say something inane, and it's fine either way.

The Man ...

On Sunday morning I had breakfast with The Man. The Man was one of my internet dates from ages ago, but we've both been busy and making time to catch up has proven challenging. He's a lovely man. Very masculine, but intelligent. Oh, I make it sound as if masculinity immediately cancels out intellect, ha ha! I don't mean that, but I guess what I do mean is that he isn't an "Intellectual". Perhaps being intellectual is a bit over-rated anyway. What's the point of brains without balls? Mind you, all balls and no brains isn't exactly a turn on either (thinking of Simon, aka Wylie!). God, can you believe I was so in love with him? He was intelligent in that Structural Engineering way, but not in a way that took art or interesting books into account.

Bikram Yoga

So yesterday T and I watched 'In Time' which was a nice bit of entertainment (and soooo symbolic, ha ha!). The outfits were also good, though I do wish people would stop wearing long leather trench coats in movies. Come on, it's over, the Matrix got there first.

We then went to Ponsonby for Bikram Yoga. Fuck. It was really hard yesterday. All this emotion rose up for me, and I felt quite sick. I had to ly down and keep breathing through my nose ... in, out, in, out. I was overwhelmed by a deep, nameless sorrow.

Fortunately I decided this was a fleeting emotion, that it was passing, and then I thought about how loved I am by friends. I thought of Andrew looking at me and saying "I will love you forever", and I calmed down. Peace came. I kept moving, stretching, sweating.

Here's something I like by Byron Katie:

I define “sanity” as a mind that is completely at peace, and “mental illness” as a mind that is suffering from any kind of stress. Stress is optional. Suffering is optional. This is the most amazing piece of good news that ever came my way, and it found me when I was in the depths of despair. I discovered that when I believed my stressful thoughts about myself, about others, and about life, I suffered, I was truly insane. And when I questioned my stressful thoughts, I didn’t suffer. And I have come to see that this is true for every human being. That doesn’t make it true for you; it just makes it true in my experience. Byron Katie

This is the time of year when people get stressed about money, family gatherings, expectations. Do whatever you can to stay sane this season. Find peace.

That's my present to you darlings: a little bit of sanity. Find a place to breathe, allowing what you do have to come to mind. I've spent way too much time lamenting what I don't have lately. That's just fucking crazy. So I'm smiling now. I'm thinking of my beloved friends and feeling good in my skin. Life is incredible. It's good to be.

Oh yeah, I feel good ...

Wednesday ... is it December 7th already? Oh, and here I am with a duck face. A sort of serious duck.

Well just for the Christmas season, here's a gift: drink this song by Department of Eagles!. Also listen to Mathew Dentith on 95BFM tomorrow morning for Conspiracy Corner. Not because I'm a skeptic, but because his voice is fucking gold!

Read some great stuff by Shakti Gawain which reminded me what I thought I already knew (see previous blog).

Don't get attached to the form. Look at the energy Any honour what is. 'Failed' relationships or perceived rejections are not about losing. Form is always changing and evolving. Sometimes you find people you can play with, learn with and love in a particular form for a time, then it changes. Sometimes you've learnt all there is to with that person, or maybe you've reached a point where you don't need that kind of energy around you anymore.

What I like about Gawain is the comment she makes about honouring the change in form, that it doesn't have to be a big boo hoo hoo whenever something shifts away from what it originally was. Guess that takes a more enlightened view than I've had recently. Getting there though.

I went to Bikram Yoga yesterday, sweated it out (the fun weekend had taken it's toll) and calmed down my mind. Went for a swim at Pt Chevalier afterwards. Yes I know, no sane person swims in that particular bit of sea after rainfall, but I figure my immunity is quite good at the moment. I joyfully dived into the choppy brine, and possibly churned up shit, but felt fantastic afterwards so I figure it was worth the risk.

Also have another favourite writer's quote for your perusual! Augusten Burroughs ...

Perhaps my supernatural abilities come from my solid spiritual beliefs. I believe in the baby Jesus. And I believe he is handsome and lives in the sky with his pet cow. I believe that it is essential the cow like you. And if you pet the cow with your mind, it will lick your hand and give you cash. But if you make the cow angry, it will turn away from you, forget you exist, and your life will fall into a shambles. I believe that as long as the cow likes you, you can get what you want.

In order to keep in the cow’s favour, you need to “let go and let God,” meaning, you can’t obsess about controlling every little thing. You have to let things unfold naturally and not try to change things you cannot change. On the other hand, I believe that if you’ve made the cow happy by living this way, you’re allowed to ask for favors. I tell people my theory, and they think I am either kidding or insane. But think this as they may, I have cow saliva on my hands, and many of them do not.

Augusten Burroughs, Magical Thinking, 2004

So I'm gonna do that. Pet the cow. Swim in salt, let people be exactly what they are, but also be honest about your own thoughts and feelings. Let things unfold. Stretch, relax, let my dark side out now and then. Smile. Touch yourself, or just reach out in general. Yeah.

Following Energy

So I've been re-reading Shakti Gawain, "Living in the Light".

"We don't trust that the Universe knows what it's doing, or else we don't trust ourselves to be able to accurately follow our inner guidance ... in the area of relationships, we have so many old patterns and addictions that it is sometimes hard to accurately hear our true inner voice. I don't think there is an easy way to resolve our fears about trusting our energy. You either avoid the issue, or move through it by being willing to follow your energy as best you can, learn from your "mistakes" and, in the process, heal your fears and build a clearer channel" Pg 108

I also think "follow peace" is some good advice I was once given.

Ever Surprising Life

Holy shit, I'm completely stuffed. What an amazing weekend. Needed it too. Though I am through the worst of the depression attack, it's sort of like recovering from a crappy flu or something ... you still have patches that don't feel good and need to make sure you're really looking after yourself.

Don't revisit old wounds with a rusty knife (but if you must, forgive yourself immediately), connect with those who are able to truly be kind to you. Sit and just look at how the light is falling. Think about how a word feels in your mouth. Or a strawberry dipped in yoghurt.

Be romantic with yourself and your friends. I 'romanced' Tieneke today with a few little gifts because I adore her and want her to know she is greatly loved just as she is, and we never know how long we've got on this funny little planet. That's why I'm over the top, too sensitive, full - on and balls out. Because I know. This life is limited time only. I do take risks and get hurt. Sometimes I wish I didn't. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live more like 'Wylie' or The Painter; finding ways to shut down or hide. I guess it's a way to be safe. I get it. I want to be safe too, but not at the expense of authenticity. Ah, who am I to judge? One man's safe is another man's lie. One woman's boredom is another's dream come true.

Went dancing on Friday with T and a few of her friends, invited Peter (aka Bob) and we all had a really good night. T looked hot yet sophisticated in her red silky dress and beautiful glossy hair, whereas I managed the sort of cute end of the spectrum in a short white summer skirt, green racer back singlet and flat black boots.

Indulged in a few splashes of tequila which was very pleasant indeed (suits me I think), and yet made sure I was in good condition to drive home by almost 4am.

When we got we home, we finished some wine I had in the ole fridge and danced in the kitchen for at least another half hour ( it was hip hop, and yes, I kind of liked it.Wonders shall never cease). I think it was about 5am by this time. Goodness me, late for a Nanna such as myself.

The next day was also great, ended up having a swim at this beach I hadn't been to for more than ten years. Didn't stay for too long as I didn't take warm enough clothing for after the swim, but it felt good to have salt water on the skin, fine company, easy conversation, a feeling of general well-being.

I think I've gone and pulled something in my shoulder (again, argh!) and so I'm back into Bikram Yoga over the next month as it's brilliant for sorting out pain. T is into it, so we can be Birkram Bitches together. Looking forward to sweating it out (not much choice in that ).

I was also telling her about how Peter goes running through the bush and we're quite inspired by that. Beats pounding a pavement (which I've tried, but it's not really me). My fitness levels wouldn't be up to scratch, but T's probably are. She could be a forest gazelle.

I think a lot of people have had a hard time of late, but here's my prediction: most of it is untangling over the next few weeks. I'm feeling so good about the friends I've got, and new friendships that are forming. T went out again last night with her brother, and she ended up making a new friend. Yay!

Today I caught up with Andrew as he's off to France on Thursday! We had coffee in Ponsonby, and he's having a pot luck at his place on Tuesday.

Peter and I have talked about doing some cool missions over summer, and looking forward to welcoming Claire Bear back home very soon!

Oh, and be proud of me darlings ... I decided not to 'catch up' with Wylie on Saturday. Life is incredibly precious and if someone isn't able to respect you, then it's time to feel a little sorry for 'em and move on.

If the people in your life are a mirror of your subconscious beliefs, then I daresay, I'm starting to look pretty good. ;)

Depression passing through like a shit, yay!

Well well my pretty ponies, I'm almost done with a recent foray into the depressive realms! The proverbial light appears (in my proverbial tunnel? Now that just sounds rude.)

I'm really enjoying reading 'Magical Thinking' by Augusten Burroughs. He wrote (and it was subsequently turned into a movie) 'Running with Scissors'. I haven't read that or seen the movie. Yet. I guess he has a similar style to my beloved David Sedaris, and they have a few things in common; gay, alcoholic, overly analytical, anxious, depressed, superior, inferior and incredibly funny. Really puts me in a good mood. Seriously. Perhaps it's the reading equivalent of listening to The Smiths.

I was going to go for a swim before working this afternoon, but the temptation to sit in bed reading and writing was too compelling. Getting through a rough patch really feels fucking brilliant. I'm almost high off feeling an absence of pain. I think that's why I enjoy reading Burroughs and Sedaris; their vulnerability and ways of trying to deal with an excess of feeling and fear touches me and helps me to laugh at myself.

Tell you what else helps ... is dancing. Went to The Checks on Saturday night with Bob and really enjoyed it. The audience were adorably young and wearing things my more stylish friends might have sported in 1988. Sort of

made me feel maternal towards my past self.

I drank little and danced lots. My legs are still aching actually. Bob was great company, and we talked about when my cousin Claire comes back from Vietnam and we'll be able to catch up with her. Not too far off!

Was also cheered by the presence of Mother duck and the ducklings at our back steps. Loooooook at theeeeemmmmmm.

Caught up with my ma yesterday and had pizza on the beach. Everything looked so good, so clean, so clear. Mum is still struggling with her grief over Nanna, it's only been six months so that's understandable.

We talked about how depression could be like a big shit that just needs to pass through. I guess it sometimes feels like you are made entirely of shit, forgetting how to let it simply work it's way out, to give yourself whatever you need to assist that process. Oh, and here's a tip: if you have a friend who is depressed, don't tell them to snap out of it, get on with it, get over it or to harden up. That's really depressing. It's like telling someone who hasn't had a shit for a week to eat a brick. Fortunately for me, I've only had one person offer the 'just get on with it' advice, but that's because she was also struggling with her own anxiety. Sometimes just saying 'the fear is passing through me' over and over again, is enough to help shift your state. It's temporary. It always is.

And so another week begins. The new moon grants you another start, new beginnings.

I am getting excited about my upcoming 'unemployment' period .... modest living for two months, but time to do all those things I say I'm going to do. Like trying to learn the guitar (been saying that for half my life), or writing a book, or getting fitter. It makes it sound like I might even be in charge of my life.

I might turn into someone really efficient, clean the mould off my bedroom ceiling (I know it should bother me), keep surfaces clear of clutter, with hold information from strangers, hang clothes up instead of throwing them on the floor, walk briskly through forests instead of staring at a bird for ten minutes, that sort of thing.

Time to open my window and get ready for work. God I sound efficient. Watch out world, I might even clean the mould off my ceiling.

T

Wylie, The Painter, Depression and good things! Edited.

Wylie, The Painter, Depression, and good things!

Wylie rang me today, really wants to see me before Christmas. Yeah, see is right.

What's good is that I can say anything I like to him, there's nothing to lose. He wants to see me, but it's just a sex thing. Sort of tempting in a limited way. It was pretty intense and passionate when we had our 'resolution' last time. Fortunately I am no longer in love with him. There's only so much shit one can process really.

He cracked me up. I told him I was fighting depression right now and after listening to me waffle on for awhile he concluded that I needed to find a 'normal but probably boring' man, and settle down. Sounds grand doesn't it?

I've had a strange day. Had a catch up with D last night (who I can now give a nick name since he no longer reads my blog). What shall we call him? I think The Painter will do. The Painter, you will recall, was the one who seemed really into me for two weeks and then announced he was off to meet someone else for coffee (oh the lack of manners!).

This is where I describe how horrible that was, but I am now editing it and removing it because let's face it, life is too short. I can say this though:

We had a coffee (got my water bottle back too, yay) and it was a very civilised meeting. He was depressed too (but I'm better at smiling through it) and continuing to see the girl he'd met the day he'd introduced me to his mum. He didn't sound thrilled with her. "Not sure about her" he said. But he's not sure of anything, lest of all himself.

He just slid smoothly out of one woman and into the next without a backward glance. Maybe it will work, though he doesn't sound thrilled or look happy at all. I concluded that it's himself he can't be with, it's nothing to do with the woman. I originally gave them three more weeks, but hey, who knows.

Anyone who spends any time in contemplation has surely felt the fear, but if they are honest about their feelings then surely they mature and are able to get beyond being excessively narcissistic. I'm hoping to, ha ha!

I acknowledged all he really did wrong was be tactless and then didn't bother to actually communicate properly with me. He recognised that he did sabotage it because it was so intense and he freaked when I (the gall of me) laid down my boundaries.

Obviously Miss Monday has worked out well for him in some way, but really, if you are able to so easily slide from one person to the next, then your honour and sincerity is surely in question. Sigh. Goodness me, I sound like someone from another era. Damnit, all my morality has tripped me up again. I'm so conservative, it's embarrassing.

Lisa thinks I'm hilarious, she has no illusions about the honour of men. She voted for National so we can't entirely trust her judgement, but I love her anyway.

So I went for a walk today, cast my vote (Labour and Greens thanks very much), went to the library, walked home a bit glum bum, had an amazing nap, and then read in the bath. Lovely.

Tonight I'm going to The Checks with Bob, Claire and Donna's friend. Yay, it's so good to have a gig buddy!! I've sometimes just go to things on my own, but wouldn't be up to that right now. I am really enjoying being with people more than ever before.

I suppose I should try and tidy my room a bit. Clear my mind and all that crap.

Oh, The Painter asked how my Forgiveness was going. I said that it really needs to just be part of every day. He didn't look convinced. He didn't actually apologise to me for being such a fucking dick, but hey, here we go, I forgive him anyway.

Afterthought: he wasn't really a fucking dick, just a fearful one. And so his fear is my mirror. What am I afraid of?

What is anyone really afraid of? Depth of feeling. Of being lost. Of being seen. Of being found.

Mathew Dentith's Voice, Reptilian Shape Shifters and talking with Mum.

Observations in space

November 23^rd

Mathew's Voice, Reptilian Shape Shifters and talking with Mum.

On a Thursday morning at around 7.40am you can hear the plummy musings of Mathew Dentith on BFM (student radio). He does this segment on conspiracy theories but gets really excited and wanders onto other topics.

Dentith occasionally slips into the beginnings of a stutter and brings it back with this lovely extended, roundy-vowelled way of speaking. I imagine him wearing a pink and green (diamond pattern) vest and sipping earl grey tea. I repeat the way he says things, murmuring under my breath as if praying as I drive towards South Auckland.

I’d never heard him, or of him, until a few months back. He sounds like he woke up with a silver spoon in his mouth and I’ve constructed a wonderfully imagined Dentith as a result. I envision child hood years of being misunderstood, stuttering in the school yard, mummy paying loads for elocution lessons and daddy wondering why his son won’t just harden the fuck up.

I like to think of him coming into his own (oh my!) as his stutter fades away and he forms stimulating friendships, spends hours analysing low brow American sitcoms and many more hours arguing patiently with anyone expounding religious views or whacky theories. For some reason I see him enjoying a nice soft boiled egg that his mum has just made him.

“Mother, where are my soldiers?”

“Now Mathew be patient, I’m just buttering them for you now.”

“Oh lovely, thanks Mother, you’re a brick.”

He’s really very funny and informative. I am rapt that he went along to see David Icke’s rally and don’t tire of how he refers back to it nearly every week, pondering which politicians might well be reptilian shape-shifters with psychic powers. Johnny Boy Keys looks pretty reptilian to me, so there might be something to it. (For my non-NZ friends – John Key is leader of the National Party, the party that’s more interested in running the country like a business than anything else. Oh yeah, and he's our Prime Minister.)

I was telling mum about the Mathew Dentith way of speaking, and then about David Icke and the naughty reptiles theory.

“So evidently at this convention there were about 640 true believers”

“Fuuck,” exhaled my mother sweetly

“I can’t believe there’s one person who believes that let alone 640”.

We agreed that being under some kind of illusion in the world is plausible, but that saying it’s an illusion purposely perpetrated by powerful lizards might be taking it a tad too far.

Something else I’m rather excited about (say that with a Dentith accent, oh my!) is one David Sedaris coming to NZ in January next year. Holy shit mouse, I love this guys’ writing. He is a most endearing and quirky beast. I’ve read two of his books and feel the need to re-read and find anything else of his I’ve not eaten with my eyes. I especially enjoyed his account of being on a train in France and having an American couple assume he was French . This wasn't a good thing as the man complained to his wife about how stinky the ‘frog’ was. Evidently he went on for some time, much to Sedaris’ silent mortification and fascination. I would like to go and see David Sedaris. Who knows what he'd deliver, but I'd like to know.

Did anyone see Eddie Izzard? Missed that, wonder if he’s still ‘got it’. He’s looking a bit more butch these days, but such pretty eyes as always.

Here’s a wee poem I forgot about until last night when flicking through a note book. Inspired by a little walk in New Lynn.

Blood and Blossoms

August 2011

Pollocks of blood

On the path

Trailing past the bus stop

finches yellow

sing and dance in the pink

blossom tree

silver jangles on my wrist

I walk behind the old man

his hair dyed ginger and in two tiny plaits

the blood leads up his driveway

he’s clutching his bag of piss

A frustrated artist

pink jandals

shrinking trackie pants

From 1983

here’s your freedom

and here’s mine too

Sky blue

and walking

_______________

So yes, ye olde voting this weekend. Mum commented that she really could imagine John Keys suddenly sticking out a lizard’s tongue and catching a fly. I’m sure there must be 640 people sitting on the edge of their seats waiting for a glimpse of glinting scales or double eyelids. I see that the National party campaigners are doing what is common in South Korea: standing on corners with signs and being dicks. Asking me to toot my support. Nearly gave one of them the fingers but decided that was a little immature. A water gun full of red paint would be funny (ok, yeah, still immature).

Earlier today we had that exhilarating wind and rain burst.

I was trying to explain our rain to someone in Korea once ... it’s as if it’s trying to get right into you. It wants to sneak down the back of your neck and knickers, the kind of rain that renders an umbrella completely useless.

God, it’s enough to make one wish for a bath and a nap. Maybe a boiled egg and some soldiers. The possibilities (use your Mathew Dentith voice) are, as they say, infinite and not necessarily based on linear perceptions of time. It’s all happening now my little tigers, you lilies of the field, you wild horses at midnight. It’s only ever now.

(Fuuuck.)

Sea and Light.

Pic: One from Piha actually. Look a bit pissed off, but let's just say it's moody and magnificent shall we?

Monday Nov 21^st

A healing weekend! Drove up North to Lisa and John’s on Friday after doing a Bikram Yoga class, and as I drove I felt all the concrete fall away, the clouds of Auckland cleared. I’d sweated like a bitch in the Birkram, and this time I had an anorexic to my left; she was tall with every bit of spine pushing up through her back. She struggled through the class and I was amazed she could stand. That’s a hard disease alright, anorexia.

On impulse I'd bought The Check's album 'Deadly Summer Sway'. I do like about five of the tracks, it's a good pop album with a lot of 70's sounding rock influence. I think my favourite (apart from 'Ready to Die') would be 'Spiders'. There's one song that really irritates me (Jet Aeroplane), but I'm sure plenty of the kids will like it. These lads might be 'on the drugs', but whatever the case, it was good company for the drive.

It’s so quiet and restful at Lisa and John’s. Surrounded by farm and bush with a view stretching green and to the far off sea, it’s a small place with a big deck. Lisa greets me with her warm hug, wide smile, her knowing green eyes. Within a day I feel like I’ve been love-drugged. We do little on Saturday. It’s enough to read on the deck and look out at the rolling hills and distant ocean. I’m fed as if I’m royalty, and even when I lose my temper during a chat about politics, Lisa doesn’t bat an eyelid.

She and John are voting National and I just about shat myself. They’re not wealthy, and their reasons for voting for National seem ludicrous to me, but I’ve always claimed to be uninterested in Politics so my rather extreme reaction surprised even me. Had to calm down and get a grip. Yes, good people sometimes make mystifying choices. I can understand some millionaire arsehole voting for National, but my hard-working and modest earning friends just don’t seem like the kind of people who would benefit from Corpse Keys and the death rattle band. Never mind, love is stronger than politics. Oh, and I don’t mean to imply that all millionaires are arseholes either. One day when I have way too much money I assure you I won't have transformed into a puckered up hole of a human being.

Let’s get back to the deck. It was perfect for doing Sun Salutations in the morning, listening to the birds gossiping, Phero the big black Rottweiler observing my Asanas.

On Sunday we went to Matapouri. Jealous much? You should be. It was truly idyllic.

Check out what the online Maori dictionary gives as the meaning of

Matapouri (pictured):

(Stative) be gloomy, sad, melancholy.

E kore au e mohio ki nga whakaaro o etahi atu tangata i tenei

ra, i tenei ra, it rotot i nga mea kua koreotia nei; ko au ia,

taimaha rukiruki au, te taea te kauphehi aku

whakaaromatapōuri (TKM.MM 13/3/1862:30).I do not know what other people think of these daily experiences which have been discussed, but I found them extremely depressing and I was not able to suppress my gloomy thoughts.

So we soaked up the healing energy of this amazing place, no gloom loomed, no melancholy dared descend on the sunlit afternoon. Picture stolen from some other site, I forgot to take my camera.

Salmon for dinner with lots of veges, a huge pile of buttery mashed potato, a little wine and soothing company. I have to remember to get up and do things or Lisa and John do it all. John gets up really early to drive trucks so they're used to going to bed early. John stands out on the deck with his rollies, strokes the dog, teases Lisa, gives me a bit of shit now and then. I give it back. It's that sort of blokey thing. I'm not much of a bloke, but now and then I give it a go.

Today I left the house at the same time as Lisa, so it meant there was time to stop at Uretiti.

Until earlier this year, I had no idea that Uretiti was a nudey beach. My mum and I went for a walk along it when we last visited Lisa together, and were a bit surprised to find all these naked people. Mum was a bit freaked out at first, but we enjoyed admiring a particularly lovely looking man as he walked down to the water's edge as we were leaving. Imagine a sexier, healthier, browner, taller version of Russel Brand.

I was there by 9.30am this morning, walking along the track next to the D.O.C campground.

I hear a cute chittering sound. Knowing it can't be a miniature monkey in the gorse, I am nonetheless curious and chitter back. I get a reply. Encouraged, I step towards the gorse and have a chittery chat with my new invisible friend. Then I see her. Sitting bold and plump on a large portion of felled pine, is a brown Quail. Quaily!

Damnit, I wish I had my camera. She, (or he, I'm no expert) continues our conversation a little longer, her adorable little quiff quivering in the slight breeze. Gorgeous!

I continue to walk and reach the soft white sand. It's more golden than pure white, finer than sugar.

I observe the detritus and admire a couple of decomposing sea birds. One is particularly interesting, the sand covers different parts of the body, feathers ruffle in the wind, head thrown back in what appears to be ecstasy. The world is such a fertile graveyard, the bones of birds, beasts and men beneath our feet.

Live men, just two, dig for shell fish in an endless wide ocean. The green blue is drinking and reflecting the tinfoil bright sunlight, the waves soothe with repetitive rush. My geography sucks. I'm looking out at what may be the Poor Knights, I don't know for sure.

A lady bug lands on my white scarf. I transfer her to my finger and whisper

lady bug, lady bug, fly away home

Her tiny red back sort of unclips to reveal winsy widdle wings, active suddenly, she is gone in the warm breeze.

I take off my scarf, my visor, and my clothes. I leave on my silver ring and my sunglasses and walk towards the sea. Lady bug, lady bug, fly away home. The water is so cold, clean, and perfect.

When I walk back up the beach, a man with his dog is walking past. I'm not embarrassed.

I reach for my towel and stop to look out at the ocean. The water is shining on my skin, I feel truly renewed. I cannot believe I'm working this afternoon. The Dog Walker stops and calls down the beach for his dog.

When I get ready to leave the Dog Walker is going past me just as I've finished dressing and am about to leave. It's funny; now that I have clothes on he stops and stares at me. He could be anywhere from 35 to 45, it's hard to tell. I think he'll be too embarrassed to keep staring for much longer, but he isn't. I can feel his thirst across the sand. I'm not offended or anything. I'm part of the view.

I leave reluctantly and get back on the road. Stopped counting road kill once I reached the Brynderwyns. For the first time in my life I have a coffee at Top of the Dome cafe. It's pretty bad, but not the worst I've ever had. My jaw tightens as I get closer to Auckland, and clouds close over in the sky.

I'm thinking of what to do when my contract ends next week. I've saved enough to live on for a wee while, but it might be fun to do something temporary, like WOOFING. Accidentally get fit. I also want to go for a few decent bike rides. Missions.

I suppose I could write a book. There's something. God knows there's always enough to write about, it's the discipline that I struggle with. Well good night, sleep tight. I feel the sun in me still, my face is full of sea and light.