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.

Birthday Thanks! A Love Cake and More!!!

Look! Here comes Tieneke with my Love Cake!

Gratitude and all of that!

So today I'll just say thank you to those who sent birthday wishes and those who are reading my blog and getting something out of it (a laugh or otherwise!). And look, I got two cakes for my birthday dinner! Both chocolate of course.

41 is a million times better than being 14.

An absolutely amazing dinner at Soto in Ponsonby.

I've been incredibly spoiled, and I like it.

Lots of red!

Thursday 17^th November

Dinner at Soto was really delicious; I had the seared tuna and a lovely gwertz to accompany it. When I arrived Sarah enveloped me in a hug, I was a bit stressed as I’d been stuck in traffic imagining horrible things.

Mum tripped and fell into the corner of the coffee table on Saturday and it looks like someone’s taken a baseball bat to her face. I hadn’t received a birthday call from her all day and started to wonder if she’d lain down for a nap and then had an aneurysm. It wasn’t till almost 7 that mum got in touch to let me know she wasn’t dead in the bed. My Uncles’ ex wife lives close to mum and so checked in for me prior to 7, so that was really kind of her. I think mum is pretty concussed, and on Tuesday when I visited she was still reeling from Wombat’s death. I felt unsettled being on the North Shore. (Picture: 'Unsettled at Murray's Bay').

Once I knew mum was ok I was able to relax and enjoy

dinner with some of my closest friends. I’ve known Sarah since 1993. We met when I lived at Mt Eden Rd, flatting with Cornelius and other assorted fringe dwellers. She was doing her Art degree, I was struggling through Communication Studies, and we drank to excess every weekend. Those were the days of cheap red wine, Poetry Live performances, art gallery visits, howling at the moon, kissing everyone, staggering along K Rd wearing lace up boots and a PVC skirt.

I’ve known Tam for a similar length of time, but in a variety of ways. She was the daughter of one of the older poets, and then years later we were flatmates. As flatmates we never quite clicked into a real friendship, but then about six or seven years ago I saw her at the Wine Cellar and it was magic. Tam is one of the most loyal friends you could ever hope to have.

Andrew of course, is the Sexy Young Ex, but he’s also one of my best friends. We met around six years ago at Hare Krishna Yoga. It was St Patricks’ day but I didn’t feel like drinking. I’d arranged a second date with a guy to meet at Yoga – but he was just meeting for the meal afterwards. He said that he had a very particular kind of Yoga practice. A bit anal. So Mr Anal and I were sitting at one of the low tables with our meals, and the door to the ‘Philosophy discussion room’ opened and people streamed out. Among them were two young men with long hair, bare from the waist up on what was a particularly hot evening. I thought it was a bit disrespectful to eat a meal with no shirt on, but when one of them sat down and was friendly and easy to talk to, I didn’t think too much more about it. My date, Mr Anal, didn’t seem to have much to say, whereas the shirtless young man did. He was also a good listener, and you know how women love that. I kept forgetting Mr Anal was there, I got so engrossed talking with Shirtless Andrew.

When Mr Anal went to the bathroom I took a chance. I said to Andrew “I really like talking with you. Shall we catch up and talk again?”.

Got his number and the rest is history. I didn’t really know if it was even sexual attraction at first, but the second time we met, it was as if a shimmering space filled with energy surrounded us. It was dense and intoxicating. Because of the age difference we decided to commit to learning and loving each other for as long as it felt right.

And then there is Tieneke. She is my newest friend and of course, also my flatmate. We have now known each other ... is it ... since June? We are both rather passionate people, always sharing what we’re learning.

That is what I really noticed about my friends last night; we’re all committed to self-development on a very deep level.

This weekend I’m going to see Lisa! She is my super oldest friend, and also God disguised as a woman walking the earth. Her favourite colour is purple, her eyes huge and green, her dog black and glossy, and her boyfriend drives trucks for a living. We have been friends since we were eight. She has been through a whole lot of shit in her life and yet seems to be filled with more peace than anyone I’ve ever met. She works with people who have suffered head injuries and loves her job. Being around Lisa just soothes me.

Now, would you like to know what I got for my birthday? Well yes, of course I got a massage from Andrew, but in addition to that he gave me a voucher for a healing session and red roses set into a bed of moss in a square glass vase. This non-boyfriend status really brings out the best in him. Sarah got me a funny string squid made by someone on Waiheke Island, and three ceramic green hearts you’d hang on a wall. I don’t normally do hearts, but Tienke pointed out how well they’d go with my Cocking Cactus and so I have warmed to them immensely. Tieneke made the Most Awesome Fucking Cake in the World and put a love spell in it! Yum, I could taste the love. It was chocolate with berry, cream cheese icing, red carnations, chunks of real chocolate ... heaven. Tam also made a choccy cake, and got me an amazing picnic basket full of goodies! The basket was crammed with wine, chocolate, crackers, strawberries, and had the utensils and everything you’d need for a super time with lashings of ginger beer! Hurrah!

And so my dears, another birthday, another year gone! As per usual, there is so much I haven’t said or will not say. What I can say is this: those who can see you will see you. Those who cannot will move on. Bless each life as it touches yours, laugh whenever you get the chance, dig deep and fucking LIVE.

Love Cx

New Dating Attitude and a lovely weekend!

Monday 14^th November

My New Dating Attitude

In order to date the way Americans seem to be able to, I have to change my mindset quite dramatically.I was instant messaging with American Dan (he was even in a Fraternity) last week and trying to explain how dating culture is still fairly new to New Zealand. Without Internet Dating it might never have happened at all. He was truly incredulous.

In NZ we seem to have tunnel vision when it comes to romance. I've met people who are a little mystified as to how they ended up with whoever they're seeing or married to. A sort of 'oh he'll do' or 'she'll do' attitude sometimes seemed to be the problem . Well fuck that in the arse, I'd rather be alone.

The whole idea taking one’s time in choosing still feels new to me, but I’m warming to the idea. We are all completely within our rights to date others until otherwise agreed, but a modicum of tact seems necessary.

What I’m going to do on future dating adventures is see less of the person, make sure I’m still going out and meeting others (dates or otherwise) so that there really is time to find out who I’m with. God, I really get carried away sometimes.

Just keep chilling out like a baby trout, there’s no hurry, no need for drama. Catch up for coffee? Sure. Meet in the park for a picnic? Lovely. Hang out two weekends in a row? I don't think so.

The problem with getting too attached too quickly is that it’s possible to end up making someone else responsible for what I’m feeling. That’s just not what I’m here for. That’s not my place on Earth. I’m here to create more love, forgiveness and passion, with or without a literal lover.

Pictures: Alice's birthday. Alice in the long scarf, my friend Mike to my left.

It’s been a wonderful weekend, very restful for the most part. I did go to Bikram Yoga with Tieneke on Saturday for the first time. It was truly amazing to see how much sweat pooled off some people. There was a woman in front of me who looked sort of dessicated, her ribs protruding, her face pinched and strained. I managed the class ok, but was truly exhausted at the end of it.

On Sunday Andrew and I met up for brunch at Shaky Isles in Kinglsand. The mochachino was amazing, but the food was really average.

I did enjoy reading about a man and his job in the Canvas section of the paper. He was an old dude who worked in a tannery. He said things like “I’ve tanned more than a million hides. That’s quite a lot”. He wore shorts “even in the Winter, but I’m getting a bit old for that now”, and he liked nothing better than going to the club on a Thursday and “losing a lot of money” at the pokies. I could almost hear his voice.

After brunch, we walked the pipeline (just out of Titirangi) to the little bridge to nowhere, lay down and ate strawberries and pineapple, and I almost fell asleep in the sun.

It was a good walk, and when I got home I needed a wee nap. Awoke refreshed and then went to see Alice for her birthday drinkies in Grey Lynn. A lot of the old crew were there, some of which I hadn’t seen since returning to NZ. Lovely to see people, but also really great talking to a few women I hadn’t met before, really gorgeous, fun, sexy women like the blonde Leo and vibrant Michelle.

And so another week begins. I work this avo, but tomorrow I’m going to Bikram in the morning, then off to see mum. Wednesday is my birthday, ooh goodie, I love any excuse to celebrate. And yes, it’s good to be alive.

Mum told me about Wombat this week. Very sad. Wombat is an old friend of my Uncle’s (Navy) who committed suicide a few days ago. 48 years old, two kids, a long term partner. No one knew he was depressed.

I guess that’s why I’m so open. Perhaps I should guard myself more, keep everything private? Nah, fuck that. If any of my ramblings is ever useful to anyone, if it could help anyone feel less alone, then it’s worth it.

Work it out, have gratitude, and then sustain it. I am so grateful to be here. It’s not the easiest gig in the Universe, but it’s the gig I’ve got. Let’s play!

Feel It!

As Kate Bush once sang:

oh feel it

Oh oh feel it

feel it my love

(Feel It from 'The Kick

Inside')

Yesterday I fell in love with Piha, again, as ever, as always. The sand felt so silky on my feet, the sky so blue, the water cold but clear.

I took photos, lost myself in the rock pools, drank all the colours into my eyes, let the wind caress me, the sky smile on my pale skin.

On Thursday I'd gone and seen a show with Andrew, a really disappointing attempt at Cabaret.

Painful stuff; I dreaded writing the review. Part

of me wanted to completely crush them; they were charging money for what came across as the losing entrants of a poorly organised talent quest.

There were just way too many sloppy dance routines performed by a majority of terrified and sexless young women. Sure, their suspenders and stockings looked fine, but suspenders and stockings alone does not sexy make. There has to be an attitude and sense of knowing that goes with it, or that can be conjured from inside. I would have told all of them to pleasure themselves before getting onstage if I'd been the director.

Picture: The Crab of Love.

Speaking of pleasure ... let's get back to Piha. It felt like being caressed by something infinite, that the infinite within me was being drawn out.

I particularly enjoyed observing the crabs, well, I enjoy observing almost anything in nature really. The tentacles of an anemone moving in the water, it's as if it's in my own body, all this nature.

Unfolded by peace

salted by the sea

all this nature

moves in me

I don't know how long I spent looking at crabs. I do get lost in time. The tide was low. I stopped and lay down in the sun even though it was getting late and the wind was cool. I read a few pages from 'Honey and Dust' by Piers Moore Ede.

He quotes a bee keeper who wrote some poetry, and one phrase really did it for me:

the vault of heaven

Am I too easily pleased? Well so be it. But that little fragment really sank into me as I lay on the sand, felt the wind, smelt the ocean. I fell into an almost-sleep, that lovely in between place of healing and rest.

Eventually I got up and walked around to the tidal pool, then decided to try and scramble up an untracked part of hill. I imagined that it would have converged with a real track somewhere on the ridge line, but unfortunately my imagination and reality didn't match up.

I ended up scrambling up crumbling dirt, grabbing hold of rotten branches, convincing myself that this was going to be great, like being 12 and having a grand adventure.

It was only once I started trying to force my way through gorse in jandals and a summer dress that I had to admit defeat. I nearly fell over completely on my bum in the gorse and realised I didn't want to spend the rest of the evening removing pricks.

Left: the view from my inspired climb into gorse.

I'd worked up a sweat and so took a dip in the tidal pool. I admired the tiny jellyfish, and kept stepping on crabs, so had to swim with my jandals on. It felt so good though, the water like cool silk, salt on my lips, that same feeling of being with an infinite love.

That was after 7pm, I was exhausted from my impromptu hill climb, and all I could think about was cheese on toast.

Lately I toast my bread and put on onion jam, blue cheese, tomatoe, fresh basil and then a layer of organic yet generic cheese, then grill it. It is SO YUMMY.

So I felt at one with the Universe, horny as hell, happy and whole.

Men: funny creatures!

I got a lovely text from this man I had a date with over a month ago. Let's call him The Lethal Weapon, as he is some kind of marital arts expert who said he is literally registered. Yes, registered as a lethal weapon.

He can't respond aggressively if some dick wants to take him on, because he could actually kill him very easily. What I liked about this guy is that he was very gentle. Very calm.

I assumed he wasn't keen because he didn't ask me out again (I know, the gall, to come to such a conclusion!).

So out of the blue I got this text saying 'well I didn't hear from you, so I guess you're not keen'. Funny bunny. So got that sorted, and he's now on my radar. Today I got a nice text from The Man who is away in Dunedin this week, and tomorrow I have a coffee date with a guy who I haven't yet pigeon holed. Thank god I've gone off FSO, there's enough to be going on with as it is. I'm not even counting the weekly texts from Wylie, I can truly see him as he is now.

Well it's my birthday next week, so I'm going to continue on in this delicious vein ... oh that reminds me ... had a really gory dream last night. Lots of blood. Blood leaking out of big water pipes in a factory, a dead body stuffed up in a wardrobe, people getting pissed off with each other. I wasn't as stressed in the dream as you'd imagine. I didn't even wake up.

Maybe it's all about this life in me, how good I felt being in nature, and that somehow made me think of death, of blood, of life and it's amazing delicacy.

Or maybe I just have really vivid weird dreams sometimes?

After the amazing day at sea, in bush, gorse up my skirt, I went home, made my cheese on toast, poured a glass of cold white wine, ran the bath and put in half a packet of Epsom salts ...

Sat in the bath eating my cheese on toast, the water really bouyant from the salts.

Blissed out.

Wishing you bliss. Meow for now.

Things I like and things that freak me out a little bit

Red nails, blue sky, black sand.

November 9^th 2011

Things I like right now

1) My new turquoise shoes

2) Hanging my clothes according to the colours of the Chakra system (red, orange, yellow, green/pink, blue, violet, white). I put brown or golden toned garments where orange or yellow would be.

3) My cardigans. I really like my cardigans a lot. I now have a red one, so now I’m all giddy with cardigan choices. I'm a cardigan slut.

4) Groomed nails. I had my toenails and fingernails done in red last week. I like the clash of the red against the turquoise of my new shoes. I am not a pedicure/manicure regular, but a little luxury can go a long way.

5) The bed time hypnosis track I’ve been listening to. The hypnotherapist I went to gave it to me, and it’s very soothing, but also quite sexy. The man has an English accent and says things very slowly, such as

“You are going deeper and it feels good ... and the deeper you go, the better you feel.” Auditory porn.

6) Sleeping in the car. I realise this sounds a bit homeless, but when you’re at work and you have a break, nothing beats putting down the seat and having a snooze. I seem to fall straight into an unconscious slumber, and my neck feels a lot better afterwards.

Things that freak me out a little bit

1)The photography shop in New Lynn. There’s a ball photo that really disturbs me. It’s of this girl, she’s young and probably beautiful, but so fragile that it actually feels painful. It isn’t a ‘gosh what a lovely girl’ feeling, it’s more like ‘heading for a snapped wrist from her boyfriend’ vibe. He could get her a ‘victim’ tattoo.

2) The pretend dog gazing from inside someone’s ranch slider door in South Auckland. I went for a walk today (one of my classes couldn’t make it) and this arrested me. I stared at the fake dog looking out at me for far too long. I knew it was fake, but I was trying to imagine what the person was thinking when they bought it. It was a concrete Jack Russel. I imagine an old man or lady living there, saying “well since Toby died I’ve been so lonely. Now that I have Tim Tim I feel so much better. He looks out the window at the world going by, just the way Toby did. Such a comfort. I do forget sometimes, that Tim Tim is made of concrete, and oh, when I pat him it gives me such a terrible fright.”

She/he nibbles a scone and then pours herself some more tea.

How’s that for random? Anyway petals, I haven’t forgotten my forgiveness mission. It’s been interrupted and I’ve staggered through it, but now I’m back on track.

Day 19 of Forgiveness

I forgive myself . I let others be.

Other notes: I do miss D. It feels sad and odd. Seems strange to not tell him funny little things that I think or feel, and he did such a good old man impression!

God I'm hungry. Time to get some shitty coffee and something sweet.

x

Seeing Fliss, Dating The Ex and The Man, The Golden Net for the heart.

Darlings!

What a gorgeous weekend it's been. On Friday Fliss and I caught up; she'd been reading my blog and was one of the visitors I didn't remember when I was doped up in hospital in '96. Fliss was friends with my cuzzy, they met through Chef School and bonded over knives.

I think things are amazingly synchronous; Fliss and I ended up neighbours for awhile. That was a long time ago. God, was that more than ten years ago? Looked over the fence and said "hey, it's you."

She would come over

looking hot in her high heels and lipstick and ended up going out with one of my flatmates. He was a handsome fruit loop, tanned and slow of speech.

That was a weird flat (one of many); a mixture of two very straight farm girl sorts and then three of us who were from the great school of Left Field. The farm girls nearly wet their pants if you left a spoon on the bench, so great was their need for control. Passive aggressive at it's finest.

So yeah, Fliss and I were neighbouroonies. On Friday she reminded me of the time gang members came searching for her dodgy flatmate and she ran over to our flat to hide. I forgot about that. They ended up stealing stuff and breaking windows in her flat, so they didn't get the bond when they moved out.

I ended up feeling like I was going crazy with the roadworks that constantly broke concrete on the main road next to the house. Fucking Sandringham Rd! If that wasn't grinding on my nerves the plump farm girl flatmates were wearing me down. I think one of them worked in a

bank. Horrible stuff.

I digress! Fliss invited me to her charming flat on K Rd and I got to meet her delightful partner (who could feasibly be my half brother, but that's another story), drink a few gin and tonics and got chin wagging. Her wardrobe is now literally a room. You may or may not know her as The Frockstar. And what a frock star! Goodness me, an entire wall taken up with racks, the equivalent of about ten people's wardrobes (and only if those ten had too many clothes).

Her beloved toodled off to bed, and we continued to listen to music and talk. Another of Fliss' friends called in to say hello after going to a gig. He was really funny and crass, enjoyed his company immensely.

Somehow it was 1am and time to go home. I saw the cops doing the drink breath thing, so I trotted up to one and asked if he could test me before I got into my car. He did. I was fine. Pretty cute as far as cops go. Irish I think.

On Saturday I did a massive spring clean of my wardrobe, and with it, a bit of crap seemed to clear out of my mind.

Andrew came over in the afternoon and we had such a lovely day. Went out to the hotpools; got fish and chips and drank lots of juice and water.

On the way home we stopped in a farm field and took some photos, shared some affection and had a good laugh. He's off to France to meet up with his family for a holiday in December, so I'm sort of 'dating' him until then. Yes, dating the Ex. But look, can you blame me?

On that subject: yes, dating! I went off FSO the other day as it was just grinding on my nerves having to bother with it at all, but I still had a couple of guys left who'd wanted to meet me. I caught up with one for coffee today. He shall be known as The Man.

The Man is so named because he's ... well ... a man. He was so incredibly well mannered, kind, handsome and intelligent. Gosh. I realise what I need to do is not get too caught up in a man's

deliciousness too fast. That it is ok to take it slow. Slow is good.

He kept thanking me for meeting him, isn't that lovely? I was amazed actually, I'd have thought he would know how hot he was and be out there putting it about. He wants to take me out to dinner, so that's cool. Lovely eyes.

I also have another one wanting to catch up soon, so goodie. My dating mind is all back in perspective! With D I think I ended up suddenly feeling like I was already in a relationship because we got so intense so quickly. Now I think I'm going to pace things more, none of this Friday night through to Monday morning stuff (I mean shit, that's not dating is it?).

Now dears, I did say that if I figured out how to make a safety net for the heart I'd let you know. And I have. It's nothing major I'm afraid. Nothing ground breaking. It's just to know your divinity and to connect with it first and foremost. You must feel what you feel, but allow it to pass through you like a wave.

Imagine a golden net around your heart, but it's made of light and lets in all that is good. It filters out anything you don't want. Can you see it? It feels good. It's vibrating with warmth.

So you're connected, you're free, you're loved. All you need to do is keep remembering.