Music, friends, Resolution with Simon, Hypnotherapy ...

Things I can Tell You ....

There are so many things I cannot tell you. Here is where I choose what to reveal, where I can create a self for you to share, but it isn't the entire picture.

What I can tell you is that last Friday I saw Simon (yes, the one I was always pining over when I was in Korea. Called him Wylie after the coyote), on Saturday I went to Golden Dawn with Otis (aquintance of old) and saw Bear cat and Petersburg play, and on Sunday ... I think I met a man for coffee (last weekend seems so long ago).

The Simon Resolution was so long overdue. For some reason I could never quite let go. I would try to, but I could never seem to get angry or feel horribly slighted by his neglect. I wanted to be annoyed. God knows friends were on my behalf.

It was time to see him again and figure out what it was that was still haunting me. He is of course, an entirely different kind of man than what I'd ever normally go for. He was so overtly masculine, so 'New Zealand' that he boarded on sounding Australian at times. It was biological, chemical, addictive.

Seeing him again, I tried to focus on anything annoying about him that I could, but really, I just felt comfortable with him. Felt like I knew him, that even after a year and a half it's as if we could have just picked up where we left off.

It wasn't tempting to be his beck and call girl again. I think I wanted him to front up, to say "yes, I am sorting out my shit, and when it's properly dealt with I can see you", but of course that did not happen.

When I went to see the hypnotherapist on Tuesday I focused on removing any blocks to creating a positive, loving and committed relationship. She used muscle testing as part of the process to find out what was going on subconsciously.

I explained how I had this unreasonable love for him. That even though his past behaviour had been unkind I couldn't seem to muster real annoyance about it. I didn't want to say unconditional love, but I knew that's what it was.

I told her how I thought I'd been Simon's mother in a past life, so she addressed this and found that I wasn't his mother, but that I have had four past lives with him, one of them as his wife. She didn't dwell on this with me. Didn't indulge me in wallowing in past life experiences, even though I would love to have known more.

She kept me on track for looking at what I do want, clearing out old connections that were draining me. It's as if the attachment has been cleared out at the deeper level, but like a corpse that still moves after a person has died, it makes it seem as though there's still a little bit of life left. I really liked her energy and am hoping that the work we did together will affect my feelings and choices in the weeks to come. If it's all good, then I will be recommending her, so watch this space!

I'm tired; a lot of mental energy expended at work this week and a slight change in hours. One of my students is so full on, always swearing, aggressive, something to prove. He's a man in his fifties, but he behaves like the arrogant 14 year old school boy who wants to make his friends laugh and try to break the teacher down. Think I dealt with it ok in the end, but it was pretty challenging.

Saturday at Golden Dawn was lovely, good to see Otis and have a drink in the darkly glamorous bar that was once Open Late Cafe. The best thing about Open Late Cafe was that it was open late. The coffees were distinctly average. Golden Dawn is a great bar and venue for bands, the staff are so friendly that at first you wonder if they might suddenly hug you or give you a kiss. I like that. A lot.

The bands bravely playing on a night dominated by rugby were BearCat and Petersburg.

Bearcat (see pic) were cutesy wootsy pie, fantastic live, but disapointingly the CD I bought for $15 was solely dedicated to pandas. Not one or two songs about pandas, but an entire album. I told someone (was it Otis?) and he pondered if perhaps the band are 'furries', getting off on dressing up as animals. Dunno about that, but they all wear little animal themed capes when they play. Not furry ones though.

Lots of animal themes in the live lineup too, perhaps they all work for Save Animals From Exploitation and wear shoes made out of rubber? I used to have a boyfriend who worked for S.A.F.E. He broke up with me because I wasn't spiritual enough, but if spiritual enough includes not killing the fleas in your mattress "because they only drink a little bit of blood" then I'm all for my strangely non-spiritual (but clean) ways. He was also the kind of guy who picked up other people's ciggie butts off the ground and smoked 'em. Yep, and I kissed that mouth.

The bearded male singer in Bearcat sounds like he's modelled his style on Gordon Gano (Violent Femmes) and the girls sound very very sweet. You can imagine them sitting around together

"Let's do an ENTIRE album about PANDAS!"

"Yes, that's a brilliant idea, we're so crazy and full of love!"

"God I love your beard, it makes me think of pandas"

"God I love your glossy hair, it makes me think of cats"

"Let's make love in our capes".

"Ok!"

Whatever the case, I would see them again live, I just wont' be replaying the panda album again any time soon. Pretty tunes though, no denying that.

Next up were Petersburg, a chirpy eight piece girl band all wearing overalls. I think the 90's are back! They were good, melodic, but just not really my cup of tea. I liked watching the girls dynamic though, as one of them was a good dancer and completely stole the limelight even when one of the other girls was singing the lead.

I wonder if they ended up fancying the same guys ..."Oh come and see my band play ..."

And then he comes and sees the band play and decides he fancies the girl with the trombone. I think it was a trombone.

"You girls are so cool the way you wear those jumpsuits"

"Oh, ha, well we didn't want to play up to the stereotypes associated with women in rock n roll"

"Yeah, yeah of course ..." he glances at the jumpsuit zip.

"I mean, not that we're really that rock n roll, more brass and stroll ... ha ha!"

Enough of my made up scenarios, it's time to ly down and sleep. Friday soothe me. Let the weekend weather shine.

Love to you all xxx

Letter to Marc Hitchcock and date with The Wanker!

Tuesday 20th September 2011

Hi Marc

I don't know who you'd be now. You're far away in time and death, but I'm still here on Earth. Can you believe I'm 40? What would you be doing now, if you'd lived to be 40? Would you have come right out of the closet and found a way to be happy?

How was suicide anyway? Have you reincarnated? I think you probably have.

If you hadn't gassed yourself in your car a week before your 17th birthday, I reckon you would've become a really good barista, travelled the world, fucked lots of hot guys in bathrooms after doing some coke, narrowly missed getting HIV, returned to New Zealand and met a nice graphic designer and settled down with a dog. Maybe a griffin. You'd have complained that he was a bit too messy (your boyfriend, not the griffin), and you'd still spend a disproportionate amount of time in front of the mirror. You'd probably like drum n bass and have ended up in Grey Lynn. You might be a Pilates Instructor and definitely vegetarian.

I was really pissed off with you for a long time. I got suicidal too, but I got through it. It took about seven years for the pain to really lift off my chest. I know you're ok, because I can feel it. I can feel that you've healed, and that the next part of your eternal journey is so joy filled. I just wish it hadn't been so painful to lose you. It was really hard. You were so shut down towards the end, that fake smile plastered on your face.

So I'm thinking of you this morning, and how we wouldn't even be in touch anymore. I didn't really retain high school friendships.

I'm facebook friends with a couple though. Do you remember Louisa? She was always nice. Yeah, the stoned one.

Here's something that'll make you laugh though - internet dating is NORMAL ! It isn't solely the preserve of the perve! I took a break from it, but now I'm back in the game.

I'm going to call my last date

The Wanker.

The Wanker was a little bit ugly with a fairly hot body, especially for a 47 year old. I'd already had two dates (one coffee, the next was dinner at his house). The dinner at his house was a success. He was drinking whiskey and I was drinking wine. We ate, we talked, he asked if I'd ever been to Club Something or Other (a sex club) and told me about going there and getting his cock sucked by a dude's wife while he talked to the dude. Interesting. Well, I'm all for too much information, love it.

I made it clear that a sex club wasn't my thing, that sex as recreation wasn't up my alley (and he was VERY interested in my alley). He told me about the demise of his marriage, 12 years, feeling like it's over after five.

I felt relaxed, I felt like I could get to like him despite his open admiration of Phil Collins. I'm flexible. I'm open. A bit too open maybe. Well I liked the advert with the gorilla drumming, so hey, guess I must like Phil Collins too.

Anyway, the Wanker had good sexual energy. Potent. Ended up kissing for ages, it got rather steamy. He went on and on about my bum, and oooh how he'd like to do something to it. Let him know that anal wasn't my thing. He insisted that if it's done properly that it's good. I'm sure he's right, but I don't know that I want a man to desire my A hole more than my V hole.

Realised it was probably time to go home. The following week he texted morning and night "I miss your kiss" etc. Shivers of lust passed through my body all week.

I was planning to fuck his brains out on our third date if all went well. I was wondering if I could really have a relationship with a bloke ... a basic kiwi bloke who likes to watch rugby on his giant plasma screen whilst nursing a whiskey. His actual name was Kevin. Kevin. It sounds a bit hard and unyeilding doesn't it? A bloke called Kevin.

He had a fine idea, to drive out to the Miranda hotsprings on Saturday, then get something to eat on the way back. Nice, a thoughtful and interesting plan. He picked me up, we kissed briefly and after I'd packed some ciabatta, ham, pineapple, fetta cheese and hummus, we were on our way.

It was a bit strange. He didn't talk at all, unless prompted by me. It was impossible to tell what he was or wasn't thinking. He didn't seem at all interested in me. He could have had a blow up doll next to him. In fact, that might be his dream woman. A blow up doll with a good greasy arsehole.

He said he didn't really talk unless he'd had a few drinks. I still tried. I asked him all sorts of questions and was tolerant of the 80's music he had playing. I tried to bring forward my own mellow energy, looked at the scenery slipping by, admired the hawks circling in a darkening sky.

We got to the pools, and he paid, which I thought was considerate. We ate the snack I'd bought along and he indicated to the kiddie pool in front of us

"I've had a wank in that pool" he laughed

I laughed too. I said "how old were you?" imagining he must have been 12.

"Ahh," he shrugged, "about 18".

I made no further comment. Wanking in the hotpools at 12 is understandable. At 18 it's just ... a bit yucky. Hey man, I'm not trying to judge ... but I'm gonna have to.

Even though we'd been kissing and dry humping like maniacs the last time we'd seen each other, he wasn't reaching out. It seemed to take forever to make physical contact. We moved into the bigger cooler pool, kissed and hugged a bit. There was still nice physical chemistry. He'd probably fuck like a barstard, but his appropriateness levels were out of whack. I was trying to find something in common other than sexual chemistry.

"That Maori chick has got huge tits," he observed, "bet the rest of her is huge too."

Um. Ok.

At at another point

"I've got the edge. And I'm naughty. And you like that."

Er, right. Told my mum about that one, and she said

"It sounds like some line a friend told him about ... say this and women like it."

I guess one person's edge is another persons blunt knife.

I'd prefer an edgy taste in music, or a love of heights, not a rude disregard of manners. Despite this, I still wanted to have a good time. We teased each other a little bit, he kept feeling my arse and longed to get into it. Then I decided to lay it down. That I've had sex with two men in the last five years. One was my off-on relationship. I think this information sunk in and he probably thought "well I'm not going to get into her arse anytime soon".

We talked about happiness.

"No one's ever happy with me" he said

"Do you really mean that?"

"Well," he said "No one's ever really happy."

"I am." I responded

"No you're not."

"Um, no, really I am."

"Well I'm not saying I don't have periods of contentment, but I wouldn't say that's happiness."

I considered his statement.

"Well I do have times of darkness, and in the past I've been depressed, but now I'd say I feel a pretty consistent level of happiness most of the time. I wake up and I'm glad. I look for reasons to be grateful."

Cos that's the thing isn't it, to actively create what you want. To know you are the only one who can make yourself happy or unhappy. What is 'happy'? Is it getting your cock sucked in a sex club, or admiring the way light falls in the evening? Is it that moment between sober and blissfully intoxicated, or the rise in your heart upon stroking the cat? Is it lying in bed, drinking coffee, reading and feeling 'yes'.

It could be that some of them are not on the radar at all, that being sucked off in a sex club is one man's nightmare, or that reading in bed sounds boring and tiresome to some. Surely it's about growing your appreciation of whatever it is that you call the state of happy. Grow it. Soak in it whenever it comes.

After the pools we got fish and chips, driving along the seabird coast. It was beautiful.

"God, mangroves are ugly aren't they?" he commented.

"Ah, well, I know what you mean, but I guess when I look at them I think of how they support the bird life, and it makes them beautiful to me."

No reply to that one.

The fish n chips were fantastic. His non-talking stance was becoming harder for me to cope with. I asked if we could have a quick look at the beach from another angle. It's a muddy beach (hello, mangroves!) but it was more exposed and I wanted to stand out in it, feeling the hills and sky.

"Ok, as long as your'e quick" he said. Ugh. It reminded me of a relationship I used to be in where I always felt like I was being rushed or controlled, that opportunities to love life more were always crushed.

He sat in the car with the engine idling while I got out to admire the view, the beautiful stones on the foreshore, the birds picking through the shallows.

It was like being with a grumpy old fucking grandad or something. I picked up an egg shaped rock and walked back to the car. I opened the passenger door and smiled.

"Why don't you come out here for a minute, it feels so good."

"Nah," he said, "It's a shit hole. I've lived right on a beach for 15 years before, this is nothing."

I took the egg shaped rock and threw it directly between his eyes. He fell unconscious onto his steering wheel, it set off the horn in the car and the sound shattered the silence, pouring out into the empty space. I stood still, my arms hanging limply by my sides.

(Ok, that last part isn't true.)

I got back into the car and asked if he really couldn't see the beauty in that scene, and he said he'd been to every beautiful beach in the world ... so nah, it's a shit hole. I smiled.

"But I was standing there" (so you could have come and kissed me)

"Just because you enjoy something doesn't mean someone else does."

"Yes, I know that, but sometimes it can feel good to share a moment with someone, even if it's not entirely your thing."
"Well you wouldn't watch a rugby game though"

"Well I would actually. I have done before, and I even watched a bit of that opening night game with my flatmate's son."

"Yeah, Sonny Bull Williams ..."

"Yeah, he passes really well."

"Nah, I mean, he's got a really good body."

God. What is it with men going on about that guy? It's like they have a man-crush on him.

"Well yeah, he's got a good body, but me and Jaiman were admiring the way he passed the ball. Even I could see he was good at that. So even though I'm not interested in rugby, I'd still watch it if it meant a lot to someone or if it was a big occasion."

Silence ensued.

And more silence.

The only things he asked me were

"Did you know this car was diesel?"

and

"What time do you like to go to bed?"

He knew nothing about me other than what I'd freely offered up.

I looked at the hills and trees slipping by. I didn't know until we were close to my house that he'd been planning to watch the rugby that evening. So I was home without plans on a Saturday night! What a prick. Prick. Isn't that a great word?

I don't really mind though. He's the ideal prick for someone. A sort of hard arsed lady who wants a dick up her bum and no faffing around the mangroves thanks very much. I call it like I see it, and I'm not happy and no one is, that's my reality. Pass me the whiskey and maybe I'll talk.

Well Marc,

It's sad and good to think of you. Who you were, who you might have been, and what you are now.

Nothing ever really dies. I know that's true, and yet it's sometimes hard to believe when I'm still here on Earth in a Mortal body. What's it like to be free of a body? I've only astral traveled twice that I can recall, and it freaked me out a bit.

If you have reincarnated, which I think you would have done by now, then I hope it's going well. I'm sending you love. I'm asking you to stick with it this time. If you end up heading for a deep depression again then find a way to get help. You were such a creative, quirky guy. We were always laughing about something or somebody.

Lots of Love

Candice xxx

Beach and pondering the term 'Horny'

Pondering Life!
Greetings my sweet little piggies of love!

As you can see, now that Spring is here, I'm pretending it's high Summer. To the right we have a picture of one of my lovely new friends, Rachelle. You may remember I met her through Tam. We went to Piha, ate cake and coffee, talked about life and the Universe, then trekked over the hill to White Beach.

I was there on Friday too, when all the World Cup Rugby shennanigans were going on. I was meant to go galvinating with T and some of her friends, but I couldn't seem to get excited about being part of a pressing crowd ... dare I say, I listened to my Higher Self and it said "stay at the beaaaaaaaach".

So yeah, two days in a row of walking over to White Beach, and of course on Friday there wasn't a soul around, it was just perfect. Was good to take a friend on Saturday though, and fortunately she didn't mind my slow pace. Got to stop and touch trees, admire the sparkling sand, feel nature loving you, giving everything to you with it's energy. Gets me really horny actually.

Horny is a funny word. Obviously it can never be the same after Austin Powers, but it also makes me think of all those Penthouse Forums I read (sneakily) as a child, and how women in the stories always seemed to be standing around with dripping wet pussies and absolutely dying to suck big throbbing cocks. Leaves an impression on a 10 year old mind, and I ended up trying to write my own 'pent house forums' when I was 12. Ahhh, those weren't the days.

I was at Whangamata Area School from the time I was 10 and until I turned 13.

There came a day when Mrs Procter, the horrible Principal of the school, was given a scrap of paper a child found in the bin. It was a little taster of one of my 'forum stories'. I would write them for friends if requested, but on this occasion I'd written a rather intense B & D lesbian scene between two girls who were sometimes really bitchy to me. In guilt, I'd thrown the paper away, but when Mrs Procter walked in waving the offending scrap in the air, I was freaked out.

She went on and on and on. Someone in here must have written this DISGUSTING thing, and they have a PERVERTED, NASTY LITTLE MIND! Shit. Guilty guilty guilty. Most of my classmates knew it was me. Everyone kept quiet. Then strangely, after Mrs Fuck Face Procter left the room, I put up my hand.

"Mr Vaughn?"

"Yes Candy?"

"Um, ah, it was me who wrote that thing. Sorry."

"Ok then," he said, not looking at all shocked, "you'd better go and see Mrs Procter".

Side note: a Proctologist is someone who studies problems to do with the anus aren't they? So Mrs Procter was aptly named. She had a face like a puckered up bum hole.

Damnit. Mrs Bum Hole was nasty. She screwed up her wrinkled, mean face even more than usual and pronounced me a dirty, nasty, horrible little girl. She said she should give me the strap but wouldn't because of my Nanna. Oh yeah, my Nanna was a primary school teacher at the same school.

I looked at her calmly.

"Mrs Procter, I think you should treat me like anyone else. If you think I should have the strap, then I should have the strap" (You have to love the 80's!).

"Oh," she sneered (yes, SNEERED), "we do think we're CLEVER don't we? Well I'll be keeping a close eye on you ... !" She reminded me that I was filthy and disgusting.

All it did was make me angry. I felt a little bad about being caught for writing something so silly, but surely anyone could see it was just an invention, nothing to do with my own actual sexuality. I wasn't interested in B & D (well, not majorly). I didn't want to suck a giant cock. I was 12. I wanted to hold hands with a boy I liked. I wanted to be kissed. The stories were just funny.

It's true that I was already an avid wanker by the time I was 12, and I thought sex was really interesting, but funnily enough I ended up inflicting Christianity on myself by the time I was 14. Aint Guilt grand?

As a result, I was an incredibly late starter in many ways, but I was also saved from other extremes. I know if I'd followed my naughtier instincts I'd have chosen a pathway laden with drugs and sex. Instead, my sexuality grew in the repressed realms of Church. Jesus was always coming!

I digress. I was speaking of nature, and although we usually refer to Nature as a She, I feel like Nature was He in the last two days for me. the hard, glistening rocks I scrambled across to reach the stretch of sand, the feeling of cold waves on bare breasts on Friday. It was Nature as my boyfriend. And I love him.

Picture: White Beach, over from Piha.

Wanna see my Cocking Cactus? Cocktail party, feeling arty smarty.

Day of Hate, Cocktails and Conversations.

Yes darlings, it's my beloved cocking cactus. Isn't it glorious?

Thought it was high time to share a picture of the dear thing. Massive and smooth but with lots of tiny pricks.

Speaking of pricks, well, I was supposed to meet Wylietoday,

but of course he was sick and unable to meet for coffee and my desired Resolution.

I'm sure he's not aiming for Resolution. He probably imagines he'll have me back in the sack in no time Jack, but I have this little thing called self respect ... well ... at least I'm working on it. Although he said he was sick, he still texted today and asked if I felt like going for a drive. Hmm. What for? A blowie in the car? Who knows.

Had A Day of Hate yesterday. Do you ever get those? Haven't had such an epic one since I'm not sure when. A day when you actually wish death on those who do annoying things on the road, a day when you think of how shitty som

e of your relatives have been (or still are). I'm not refering to my mum or cousin Claire obviously. They rock.

Fortunately for me, I visited mum

and she said a few things that just calmed me the hell down. I knew I was being all hate fucked anyway, but seeing mumma just helped to soothe my soul. Hate or resentment is so yucky. It really eats away at your mojo like a big old moth

on wool.

I went to Tam and Sean's cocktail party and really enjoyed myself despite the fear I might feel consumed with fear, unresolved sorrows and resentments. Shows how crazy a day of Hate can be - I felt so happy last night!

Lovely people, some good quality conversations - one with Rachelle and another with Adam. Adam announced that he was an Atheist. What fun! Such commitment to a belief system, I like that.

Dionne, Tam's sister, had worked on the music playlist which was really quirky and suited the cocktail theme. There was dancing, strong mixes to consume, and towards deep of the evening ... MEATY STICKS. Yes folks, bacon and chorizo on a little toothpick. YUM!!!

Drank a bit when I got there, but calmed down and stopped in the last few hours so that I could drive home. And yes, I went home earrrrly, so I was able to wake up feeling fine and dandy.

So today I went to The Oratia Markets (through Glen Eden, keep driving, go through the roundabout and head towards that vineyard ... ).

I love going to this market. It makes me feel involved and virtuous, buying locally, blah blah.

I usually go quite late and today was no exception. I bought these eggs (SPCA approved), carrots, courgettes, bagels (which are amazing), two bags of mandarins, .... yeah you get it.

Picture shows me smiling with eggs

So I'm set for most of my groceries for the week, as long as I don't forget these things are in the fridge and need to actually be eaten. So that was my community spirit taken care of, and then I went to a dirty old mall (the one in New Lynnand did a few boring things ... among them buying bras!).

Was there ever a task so onerous? Finding a bra to fit AND look fine is much more arduous than a man could ever believe possible. I was in changing rooms for nearly two hours, possibly more. I think I tried on forty bras. Seriously. Fortunately there was a sale on (yayyyy) and I got three bras and millions of knickers for $110. I'm in the unique position of wearing a bigger bra than I appear to need. C cups always look like they should fit me. They don't.

Now I'm trying to decide if I can be arsed going out again tonight. I know it sounds silly, but sometimes I would rather stay home, read a book, or watch a DVD

... but I do have the chance to go out with my beloved T and her friends. One of them is the guy who made the fau paux the night of the Flat Tyre ... gosh, what nick name did I giv

e him? Was it Mr Sensitive?

He's probably a good person though, and I don't think I'd feel funny if we were all out having a dance. So yeah, it'd be Rakinos. Haven't been to Rakinos since returning to NZ.

Oooh, update, just talked with T and fortunately she doesn't feel like going out either. Yay!

We can stay in and be wonderfully boring. Oh wait, she's inviting her part time boy over. Oh well! Maybe time to call the sexy ex. Hmmm.

And now - more photos of Tosca and stuff for your pleasure and amusement. Lots of love, C x.