General Joy and Advice for Single Men

Picture: continuing to show you the beautiful carcasses of Kare Kare.

Excellent life! On Friday Suzanne and I went to this unusual show at the Civic, something to do with Elephants in the title. We met up with Minnie and her friend Andrew, it was lovely to see Minnie looking so happy. We were late and so this nice old man sneaked us down the back passage (hee hee).
The show at the Civic:
(skip if reviews bore you)
We moved from room to room and aspects of technology and live performance were intertwined. I liked the pole dancing squid (amazing legs) and then this guy who talked about ghosts. The Ghost Guy had a black screen with a hole cut in it where a person with a sheet over their head in the style of a childish ghost appears. This ghost reads a long text about El Salvador and forests. It's boring, and I believe it was meant to be, as it sent me into this trance like state. While in this state, the guy applies white paint to parts of the screen with a roller, then goes back to project an image onto the painted parts of the screen. It shows us a body that can go with the ghost face, it's beautiful and the whole thing culminates in this incredible ghost dance with various ghost images and colours projected on the back wall. The music is relentless. It's a haunting. A relentless haunting; and I liked it.

I then caught up with a lovely friend for lunch in Kingsland yesterday, and in the evening Tieneke and I went to the hotpools, the run down 'Palm Springs' out at Parakai. Exactly what was needed, soothed my back beautifully. Got to get back into hot yoga, it was helping my neck and back immensely. And now to change the subject somewhat, but I think this might be useful. If I could save just one man from being unnecessarily unkind or dickish, it'll be worth it. I'm generous like that.

Advice For Single Men

If possible, be kind, have ideas about what to do or where to go, don't talk incessantly about the ex (and how great he/she was or what a bitch she was), and be honest as to whether you're wanting a casual encounter or might be open to more.

Be Kind:
One would think this is straight forward, but sometimes men (and women too of course) think it's smart or cool to be a little bit cruel. If you are in fact a little bit cruel, then by all means continue, but rest assured, it's obvious that you are deeply insecure and the facade will eventually fail you.

Just be kind. A woman (or man) worthy of loving will like it. A lot. If she doesn't, she's got stuff to work on, as we all do. What is kindness? You know, simple stuff like being really nice to her mum, or giving her a sincere compliment (this doesn't mean 'pwroawh, your tits look great in that you little minx').

Have Ideas: Are you the Man? I don't mean to be sexist here, but fuck, do I look like I have big old gonads in my pants? Actually don't answer that. Recently I had The Handsome Englishman continually expecting me to have all the ideas on where to go, what to do and then he asked if I could pick him up. Needless to say, if I did in fact have a dick, it would have shriveled up. So be bold, suggest coffee or an art gallery visit. I currently have a new Englishman on the 'oh goodie' list, and this one has ideas (and it doesn't hurt that he has great taste in music and books!).

Talking About The Ex Too Much:
I admit, I'm guilty of doing this. I only realised how fucking boring and annoying it was a few months ago when I had coffee with a man who told me in great detail about his ex and the gate. He and his ex wife were still living in the same house (selling it an issue or something). She has a new boyfriend, but he was a bit nervous about dating (and possibly explaining why he can't take you home, ha!). The story he told me was all about the gate, the rubbish bin, and the anger. This was our second date and I wanted to talk about Me.

I've probably talked too much about the weird and mentally disturbed aspects of past boyfriends ... and to clarify I do not mean Andrew. He's been a good one, fairly mentally stable actually.

But yeah, I've gone out with some pretty sad puppies before, and loved them very much. I don't want a sad puppy anymore. I'm ready for a happy man, or at least one attempting contentment.

Be Honest - but that doesn't mean Tactless!

If you're really wanting just sex, still be as kind as possible. Be charming, and if it's a one night stand, clarify that you're not looking for anything long term. Stay and hug awhile in the morning, she's not going to bite your dick off.
I don't like one night stands. They're just not satisfactory. I haven't had one in many years, the sex is usually low quality. Better off with Self Lovin'.

If you aren't good at oral, then sort it out. Women need the strength of Samson in the jaw in order to give good head, the least you can do is experiment with the movement of your tongue. Yes, it's ok to switch from fingers to tongue, we're not going to get all Nazi about it, but a boyfriend or lover who gets down on it with the greatest enthusiasm is a prize above all others! I've been very lucky in this department, possibly spoiled somewhat, but I understand that's not the case for all women.

There's a wee line between honesty and tact. I think it's clear, but evidently that's not so for everyone. I once knew a man who I thought I might have fallen in love with at first sight; we talked non-stop for nearly two hours. He appeared to have bared his soul to me. His girlfriend (whoops, surprise) arrived shortly afterwards. She was tall and willowy and looked like a fairy princess complete with strawberry blonde hair down to her small shapely buttocks. She had cancer.

A few weeks later at a party he told me they'd split up. Because he had a complete honestly policy with her, he told her on the drive back to his house that he had been wondering what I'd be like to fuck. For some reason this really upset her, and then he got annoyed with her because he was 'only being honest'. Shit man, the woman had cancer. She might not have felt strong enough to hear where you felt like sticking your dick that day, not if it wasn't in her. That folks, is the very definition of tactless.
You'll be glad to know I never did sleep with the man who was so cruel to his cancerous girlfriend. He didn't know he was tactless, that's what was incredible.

So yep, if you're going to do Internet Dating men, here are my top tips:

1) Do have a reasonable photo in which you are properly attired. Tieneke suggests no striped shirts, that they're done and dusted, making you look like an office worker from the early 90's going for after work drinks. I'm not so strict, I could forgive a striped shirt, but plain colours are preferable.

2) Photo Pose: do not stand to the side trying to show you don't have a fat gut. It looks vain and pathetic. Likewise, photos where you are lying back on a bed or pillow look dodgy. Pics without shirt, well, if you're hot and are looking only for sex then that's fine, I know to avoid you.

3) Lies: If you lie about your obesity, age or pretend to be more interesting than you are, a woman will detect this in about two seconds. Maybe less. Don't lie. Embroider the truth if you must (I've just started at the gym is a popular lie amongst the obese).

4) Point of Difference: Sporty? There are way too many sporty men on the dating site. They kite surf, do triathalons, run millions of kms a day, go cycling, surf, have wankathons and more! Stand out. If you can spell, like art and have a reasonable knowledge of music, then you're already leading in the point of difference stakes.

5) Your Nickname: There's a guy who calls himself CuteyCub. Makes you feel ill? Yes, me too. He's a goodlooking guy, but in one second he's shown himself to be a dorky vain dickhead who possibly wants to be coddled. You don't have to call yourself anything earth-shattering, but perhaps avoid things like Want2eatU (that's also a real one).

That darlings, is more than enough information for one day. Judge not lest ye be judged so it goes ... but gee it's hard not to judge.

Today: off to Matakana for a music festival, but first meeting up with Old Persistant Man for coffee! Oh the fun!

Secrets and Day Tripping

Guess what?


I have secrets. That no matter how much people think they know you, that no matter how many pictures you post or how explicit my blog appears to be ... I'm always keeping something for myself. Or I'll tell you face to face when we catch up for a coffee.

I've been having an amazing time lately. Excellent and ridiculously long holiday thanks to the fact that I haven't got another contract lined up yet. I'm way too relaxed about it.

On Thursday I went to Piha with a fine assortment of folk - Tieneke planned it. She invited friends to meet at Hardware cafe in Titirangi, then on to Piha, then to the RSA for dinner ... and then stop to look at the glow worms at the Pipeline walk on the way home.
It was a mind blowing day. Andrew came and remained a sober driver, as did lovely Dana, one of T's friends from Yoga school. Tim was also a yoga dude and really funny and charismatic, and T's friend Hip (I've mispelled it) also joined us.
We clambered over the hill to the left, and because no one was around Andrew and I felt fine getting nude for the swim. It just felt right. Tim later came to the same conclusion, and we enjoyed the feeling of nature, nature, nature!

I wasn't getting nude to be sexual, it was just nice.

What a stunner of a day. I wanted to run back around the rocks before the tide rose, but the others were too scared to and went back over the hill. I felt like some kind of amazing beach ninja and ran around with levels of nimbleness previously only seen when Jack jumped over the candle stick. Quick.

We reached the other side way ahead of the others and lay on the grass looking up at the brain clouds. It was really peaceful and I was filled with unreasonable levels of joy.

When all the others rejoined us we went on to the RSA. We were already a bit smashed, but managed to get through the pressed down atmosphere of the pub and onto the deck to sip our drinks.

Tim went walk about. There was a smattering of paranoia quickly overcome. On the way home we stopped and looked at the glow worms, but poor Andrew was incredibly tired and sick of babysitting me.

To bed and to slumber. What a slumber!

And i just keep having good times.

Friday had a third date with the Handsome Englishman, but he was starting to bore me. I realised I didn't want to kiss him. His mouth looked too hard, yet his behaviour was so passive. Where's the passion? Bring me the passionfruit! Ooh, speaking of which, I did have a good ice cream today. Delish.

Where's the time going?
How can it now be 10.35pm on Sunday? It's madness I tell you. A mere illusion!

I also caught up with Lou and her lovely man Johnny yesterday, and god, they are so fucking nice and cool, it's crazy! We talked about Duncan, and then guess what? I saw Duncan today when T and I were having coffee at Hardware!! Synchronicity plus. I wouldn't have recognised Dunc because I haven't seen him since we were 26 and he has since grown a beard and looks all MANLY!!!

I'm excited. Man I'm buzzing. Life is good.

Piha with Andrew, grooming ... and missing Korea!

January 18th 2012

Yesterday Andrew and I went out to Piha, it was warm enough to swim in the tidal pool after walking over the hill to the left of the beach. An easy and beautiful walk into Paradise. I feel like I'm really getting back to the contentment of my 'true self' which is a great relief.



I didn't say a lot about the depth of my recent depression in these blogs because I don't want to bring anyone down, but man, it was a right doozy. If you've ever been depressed (combined with our good friend Anxiety) then you'll understand how difficult it can be to get out of the hole. I'm outta the hole! Thank goddess!



So yeah, another amazing day at Piha. It's a place that never lets me down (that sounds like a sanitary napkin ad now, or was it a deodorant?). As much as Andrew enjoyed Europe he said it's definitely refreshed his appreciation of NZ.



Funnily enough, I'm missing Korea today. I wrote in my journal that I miss the predictable unpredictability of it ... and if you've ever lived in Korea you will know exactly what I mean. I looked at some photos from January 2011, the snow was thick and deep ...




Anyone who has actually lives there long term should just have WTF? tatooed on the inside of their palm, so that they can just hold it up silently whenever the next bit of shit goes down. I didn't get a smile from my school's caretaker until winter came and I helped shovel snow. Cracking the ice that had formed over the concrete was hard work, but it beat sitting in a freezing building waiting for someone to say something interesting on Facebook.

Andrew said he now realises that even though France does great cheese they can't compete when it comes to coffee, but that yes, people in Paris all look amazing and as if their clothes have all just come straight from the dry cleaners. Imagine the pressure! I spill crap down the front of myself on a regular basis, so reaching a Parisian standard of grooming would always be beyond me. However, the good thing is, I don't really care. I have days where I feel like looking immaculate (my version of it anyway) and other days where I don't care if I'm mistaken for a homeless person.




Well this was just a little bloggie, wanted to share with you how damn good it feels to be sane, still on holiday, and the sun it shining!

Today's star thought:
The Andromeda Galaxy colliding with the milky way ...

http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTdIE26VOjFCuM0rbIYn2rpWD3HYvTjhZUcMPbq4DW5lgUUFf-OpxXePXQJPg

Kare Kare: West Auckland slice of wild paradise!

Fantastic afternoon out at Kare Kare. It's not a place you'd want to go when feeling anxious or vulnerable, it's so open and windy. It was just what I wanted today ...
I felt completely soothed and had that 'alone but not alone' feeling.



I didn't go out till late this afternoon; the sun tried valiantly to shine and I had a sense of immense contentment as I took photos and soaked in the vastness of it all.


Also, I forgot to say in my last blog that Andrew is back from Europe! He got me a gorgeous necklace from Barcelona. Andrew is looking beautiful as ever, but we were good and didn't indulge in a romp because (shit, now why didn't we?) ... oh yeah, I'm keeping my energy clear in order to attract a man who wants to commit to me properly!



I'm a little sunblown and wind burnt .... my eyelids have that swollen feeling ...stoned on the sea. I have a few candles burning, Toscat sleeps, the house is quiet. Spoke with Lisa thismorning. She wanted to know what happened with 'Rose' and found it hard to believe that someone who has been my friend for 18 years doesn't yet 'get' me. But hey, we're all entitled to change or not change, to hold grudges if we want to, or to let go with love and an intention of forgiveness. I don't feel angry with Rose. I guess it's arrogant, but I just think it's her loss really.



Loss

The winds of Kare Kare will find your bones
bare
stripped of all your flesh
finally free
and flying

what loss is this
the coldest kiss
like a man who loves you in the morning
and meets another in the noon
we are all stumbling
from beach to bed
feathers and bone breaking in the seas of sorrow
but no
it is nothing
it was an absence
and there is nothing missing in you
nothing at all
you are whole
as ever
as always
and Kare Kare shows you the truth
with death
with wind
with water.

Candice.
x

Stars, The Handsome Englishman ... and Bikram Choudhry looks like a little pimp!

So I've decided I need to know more about stars. Not astrology darlings, but actual astronomy. The facts of it are far too poetic anyway. Sometimes you'll look up and clumsily try to remember what the hell is going on out there, so I'll try to provide some fun reminders:

"Since light travels at a finite speed, distant objects are seen as they existed in the past. We see the Sun not as it is now, but how it was eight minutes ago. (The Sun is eight light minutes away from the Earth). We see the nearby stars as they were several years ago. We see Andromeda, the nearest spiral galaxy as it was roughly 2.5 million years ago. Thus, the most distant objects that we see are the oldest objects that we can directly detect."
http://map.gsfc.nasa.gov/universe/rel_firstobjs.html

January 16th 2012:

Speaking of stars, one of the highlights in the last week would include another date with the handsome Englishman. We went to a comedy evening which we both enjoyed, though some of the humour relied on levels of crass that shocked even me.

Don't get me wrong, jokes that rely on sex or shit don't worry me in the least, but poking fun at the expense of Para-Olympians or the intellectually disabled seemed a bit desperate.

Although I feel rather besotted with the Handsome Englishman already, I'm continuing to talk with other men on the site. I've learned my lesson when it comes to putting all my eggs in one basket, though that hasn't been a problem on most other occasions in my life.

The men I've usually started to 'see' are only too happy to take my eggs, basket and anything else that comes with it! Becky said that emotionally unavailable people are always going to attract emotionally unavailable people. Maybe I need to trust that inner compass. I'm emotionally available, so someone who isn't won't stick around for long.

I imagine I've got some kind of Love Magnet in me, and it's going to repel someone who doesn't feel lovable or worthwhile. I can see it happened with The Painter, and even with Rose most recently. The person who can handle being well-loved will enjoy being with me. This can be said of all relationships, not just romance. Obviously we end up blaming ourselves instead of thanking our true inner magnet for attracting or repelling the situations that unfold. We are always creating our own world, giving things the meaning we choose to.


The Golden Rule, and Imagine if Someone Wanted You to Shit in their Mouth .... something that has never happened to me, thanks be to Jesus.

The Golden Rule states that we treat others as we wish to be treated ... but sometimes that's not true is it? Some folk need you to be aloof so that they can work hard to 'deserve' love. Some folk wanna be pissed on or whipped. It takes all sorts.

So what if you end up with someone who wants you to shit on them? If you agreed, what does that say about you? We could be talking about literal or metaphorical shit, but thinking literally is funnier. Imagine it.
"Darling, I feel we've reached a point in our relationship where I can finally tell you my greatest fantasy."
"Oh cool, what is it?"
"Well, you'd position your arse above my eager mouth and shit directly into it while I masturbate".
"Oh.I was kind of hoping I could just wear the nurses outfit and have you tie me up."

If you feel happy and excited about shitting into someone's mouth, then wow, it's a match made in Heaven. If you didn't feel too good about it but did it anyway, then you'd be diverting from your values and debasing yourself. You'd probably come to the conclusion that it wasn't going to work, no matter how much you loved them. Every sexual adventure would now be shit-tinged, the eyes of the beloved trained hungrily on your arsehole.

Gosh, that was a bit of a diversion, but it segues nicely into the next topic ...

Bikram, The Man.

Birkram Choudhry walks onstage. He is little, but stands a few cm higher thanks to the curious choice in footwear. They appear to be women's court shoes, the material shiny silver, almost holographic, complete with a stiff bow. They look like the sort of shoes a wealthy old Korean lady might wear.

In addition to the amazing choice in shoes is the over sized black, shiny suit complete with a red satin handkerchief in the top pocket. He is balding and yet still keeps his thin, frizzy, hair long, sort of like Michael Bolton used to do.

His shirt is also black, shiny and embossed with some kind of pattern. Possibly paisley. The tie is astonishing; also black, but encrusted with diamantes in a pattern the shape of a diamond. He's a tiny Magpie Pimp, and goes on to talk for far too long about himself and all that he's accomplished. He talks himself up at every turn, and although much of what he says is valuable, it's the stuff I already know. Does the man not realise that we're already sold? That if we're here, we're not here to find out if Bikram Yoga is any good, we're here because we're interested in the philosophy and spirituality behind it. We already know it's a good practice, but to hear Bikram blather on you'd think we were arguing with him about it's validity.

There is no argument. It's great yoga. You feel fantastic when you've completed a class. What's interesting is that Bikram himself is quite abrasive, crass, funny, pathetic, boring, amusing and arrogant. I should have saved my $75, only it is good to know it's contributed to the re-building of the Bikram centre in Christchurch (something he will of course benefit from).

He loves to name drop. Shirely Maclaine, actors from the past that we don't care about or even remember, President Nixon, both Bushes (and a joke about pubic hair that he thought was really funny), some actresses who supposedly killed themselves because he wouldn't fuck them. Really. I'm sure there might have been other reasons why you'd kill yourself, rejection from an arrogant little Yogi wouldn't be reason alone.

It's a classic case of Rock Star Genius. You know the ones. Some man or woman with talent ends up going a bit nutty with power and ego. The amount of self-praise and outlandish claims are just boring after awhile. I don't need to be convinced that this yoga is good, yet he would say (far too often)
"I don't have to prove anything! If you believe me good. If you don't, eat shit and die!"
Yes, that was his particular brand of charm. He swore, he boasted of how he'd fucked one woman and given her 42 orgasms, imitating the broken walk of this lucky lady after he'd done with her. He just seemed a bit of a dick really.

Despite all this he insisted that we hurt no-one, live well, care for our bodies and our souls. I liked how he pointed out that Jesus was a Yogi, and that as such, he had total control over his body and mind. This means Jesus didn't actually suffer when he died, as he had mastered the ability to shut down the organs in the body through meditation. This made it appear as though he'd died, but of course he hadn't. I think that's entirely plausible, and I enjoyed thinking of how different people wrote that Jesus suffered when in fact there was no suffering. He overcame death because he didn't die in the first place. Booya!

So yeah, the best thing about that talk was realising that even when someone looks like a little pimp, even when they talk about women in a way I find offensive, even when they wear a massive diamond watch that's the very last word in garish, they too have something valuable to contribute. Depsite his personality and obvious love of power and celebrity, Bikram has introduced a really effective Yoga practice that I enjoy. I just hope none of the instructors ask me what I thought of him.

Accidentally Stoned at Bikram Yoga, A good Date, More Dicky Internet Names and the End of A Friendship!

KNOW WHEN TO FOLD 'EM!



On Friday I visited a friend I’ll call Hal, went to Bikram Yoga and then sashayed into the evening for an internet date. At Hal’s I shared melon liqueur with tonic water, drank black coffee (no milk available) and ate icecream with chocolate sauce. This was before Hal even lit up a joint.

As you may or may not know, I can’t partake because I don’t really want to. Do you want me to move slowly, find it hard to speak and then fall asleep? If that was the goal, then that would be the drug for me! I politely declined, but of course must have accidentally inhaled during the course of breathing in the small living room space.

As a result, doing Yoga in a heated room ended up being very difficult indeed. I thought I was going to faint or vomit, or maybe both. Maybe I could vomit and then fall into it for good measure. I spent most of the class breathing deeply through my nose, lying flat on my back, sweating profusely. Fortunately the nausea and light headedness passed and I ended up feeling amazing. A few women in the changing room were really kind to me. One girl, stripped clean of any fat whatsoever, said she noticed I was completely grey at one point and was ready to perform first aid if necessary. Aw, how nice is that?

I showered and drank copious amounts of water, changed into my ‘innocent blue frock’ and turquoise shoes ready for my date. I was quite ready to meet with someone pleasant and boring and make the best of it, but he ended up being attractive with sparkling blue eyes and a ready smile. Yum.

He’s one of those people who gets better looking the more you look at them. I didn’t blurt out how much I liked his nose or anything, the way I might usually do when I fancy a man.

We’re seeing each other again next week. I was a bit more forthright than usual and he really appreciated it. I’m normally afraid of hurting people and tend to tip toe around a little bit, always trying to make sure I’m not misunderstood.

I told Lisa how I spoke to this lovely man and she said
“oh if he can take that then he doesn’t have a big ego. That’s good”

A man who is excessively egoic or too fragile won’t cope if you’re a bit full on, but the one who can take it is obviously not afraid to laugh at himself and at life.

Installment Two of Internet Dating Nicknames:

Today dear ones, I decided to search under nicknames using a simple formula. Who, I wondered, might nick name themselves something really stupid, like ‘dickhead’? Well, it turns out, more than you’d think. I would guess that many of these have been created as a joke ... but what if some of them were not? What then, would this mean? It would mean we have way too many dickheads in NZ.

Search 1: type in ‘dick’

These are my favourites.

Dickosaurus (32, Auckland): this is kind of cute actually. Least offensive.

Dickname (52, Auckland): his name is Dick and so he thought it would be really cutesy to play on that fact. He’s been given a lot of shit about Dick all his life, so now he’s going to play it like the Muppet in the episode where Kenny Rogers sings “the gambler”. Know when to fold ‘em Dick, know when to fold ‘em.

Dickwad (72, Auckland): this one is a joke. A man of 72 isn’t going to call himself Dickwad. But what if he did? What if it was a nasty, smelly, angry old man jerking off in his crusty old Y-fronts and telling people to fuck off?

Dickcheez (52, Nelson Bays): Likewise, I can’t see this being someone’s real profile. Why would someone admit to dick cheese?

The winner in the dick search is (cockin’ drum roll please):
DICK HOLE (Dunedin, 20): This could be a sad country song –

“I’m in Dunedin and I’m sad and lonely
lookin’ at my dick and wishin’ you’d phone me
You know I don’t love ya but I want ya to blow me

ohhhh, my dick hole, ohhhhh oh, my magic dick hole!
(imagine enthusiastic crowd joining in)

Sing it with me!

I asked you if you’d sit on it
but you want no part of the magic slit
cos it’s all clogged up with shit and grit

oh, ohhhhhhhhhhhh my magic dick hole!”

Sorry. That was uncalled for. It appears that my humour might fall under ‘horrible teenage boy’ category at times. So be it.

Search 2: ‘bum’

The only good one that came up was BUM CHUM (46, Wairarapa), and I’m glad it’s in capitals, because you know, the message may not have otherwise got through.

Search 3: ‘wank’

Wanky (28, Upper Hutt): Oh wanky, I’ve longed for this connection. As soon as I saw your dating nick name I felt this stirring in my heart and knew we were meant to be together.

Wankey (26, Otorahanga): So this is special – you wank, but it’s a key. You’re a clever young man. If only you were in Auckland!

Search 4: ‘lick’

Lick clit (24, Christchurch): Christchurch might be falling apart, but at least there’s a young man doing his part. Oh Lick Clit, you inspire me.

Lickmymince (24, Rotorua): Most intriguing! So, do you really have a plate of mince you’d like me to lick, or are your genitals so mutilated that they resemble mince? It’s quite confusing, I’d love to know more, but Rotorua is a long way to go. Tell you what, throw in a visit to the Polynesian Spa and maybe I’ll consider it.


Sunday 8th January

Ah, it’s still raining folks. Watched “Never Let Me Go” last night. Dark, depressing, sad and yet quite satisfying. I must be over my depression if I can watch something like that. I came to the conclusion that it was a clever way to demonstrate how people do not question the status quo, that the people who are cloned do not rise up and rebel against what is inhumane and disgusting because it’s ‘for the greater good’.

I also liked the simplicity in it – that we all need to have a reason to live, and to love and be loved. The value of life increases when you have to fight for it.

Speaking of value, I have a friendship of 18 years that has finally died. I had done a prayer of sorts awhile ago, asking for that which needed to die in my life to do so, so that new growth and goodness could come in. The following day, this friend, who I will call Rose, got annoyed with me about something trivial. She didn’t communicate properly about it, and it followed an old pattern in our friendship that I’ve become weary of.

Nothing I ever do or say reassures Rose; she’s always measuring the friendship, making mental (and literal) notes of anything I do ‘wrong’. Years ago she wrote a long letter to me listing all the things I’d done wrong in the previous year, attacking me and saying how selfish I was. Her timing was brilliant. I was recovering from the worst breakdown I’ve ever had or am likely to have in my life. The things on the list were bizarre, as if she’d been scratching around in an old barrel to find fault with me.
Things like ‘you didn’t light the candle for my birthday’, when she had told me she wasn’t sure she wanted me to even do it! When I pointed this out, she refused to even hear me out. She said that none of it had ever been misunderstandings, that I had purposely done these things to hurt her. Um, right, because that’s what I’m all about.

Most recently I’d asked if I could stay at her place for one night when I was in the midst of my lovely ‘surprise depression’. I needed a friend; I needed a change of scene. I was a mess.

She said no, that wouldn’t be possible until the new year (which was a few months away at the time). Instead I asked Lisa, and not only did she say yes, she treated me like a Queen. The contrast was glaring.

God knows, I did still try this time. I emailed saying I wanted to save the friendship but that she needs to take responsibility for her emotions. She wrote in an email that she won’t explain herself or take ‘all the blame’ and that the friendship was over. Blame for what? I don’t blame her. I think that once again, she’s imagined a rejection coming from me because she rejects herself. This has nothing to do with me. She’s imagining all sorts of hurt where none exists, because she needs to be a victim, to play a role she’s comfortable with. And no, she doesn’t read my blog, never has.

Farewell Rose. It was a pretty wonderful friendship, but a lot depended on how willing I was to play the part you assigned me. I don’t need it anymore, but I will always hold love in my heart for you. It would have been great if you’d had the courage to admit you over reacted, the courage to be the strong one in the friendship for once.

Life is too wonderful to spend time trying to prove to someone that they are lovable. You can never assure someone else enough. You can’t debase yourself enough. You can say sorry when you’ve done nothing wrong, but again, it will never fill the hole inside them. You have to let them go with love and hope they find their way. I feel good. I know I have been a fucking awesome friend and given absolutely everything I could, but I can’t sacrifice my soul. That’s asking just a little too much.

Instead, I have time for friends who allow me my humanity, who are willing to talk about it if they feel hurt, and I do the same. Otherwise you end up shutting everyone out, suspicious and fragile, willing to judge others and make them guilty.

Here’s to love. x

Cheap Amusement: what men nickname themselves on net dating

Photo: another of the new year selection. But let's not think about that joyful time, let's talk about what men call themselves on internet dating!

Yes, this is what it has currently come to. I am now compiling a list of the 'nick names' that I find most annoying. Ok, I'm not saying my own internet nick name is brilliant. It's not, and no, I'm not telling you what it is. But it's not Sunny or Fun Times or Smiley Girl 70, so you can rest easy.

This may well be an on-going hobby. So here are the ones I looked at today that really caught my eye, and for all the wrong reasons. Attempting to list from least annoying to most offensive or irritating. I'm going to be mean ok? These are not men who approached me, they're just a sample of the names you can snigger at if you have a bit of time to kill.


Heywotsup: Wots up is this: you're a bit boring.

Nick Breaker: Ok Nick, we get it. Sounds like 'neck breaker', and that, obviously, is what we gals are looking for. Someone to snap our necks like a twig. I can't fucking wait.

live2themaximum: are you twelve? Are you like, totally rad, living life to the max? Just annoying.

WhatIF??? : Ok, there's nothing wrong with what if? But the way this is written, it looks like you're try to say whatIFUCK. Maybe that's the secret message. Maybe I just have a filthy mind. Dunno. But you're holding a fish up to your face and smiling, so maybe I'm just incredibly insightful. The fish represents all the pussy you'd like to be getting. You don't mind if it's fishy, that's ok. So you're working the ladies with a subliminal message WhatIFUCK is fish. Good one.

badboymatty73: Am I supposed to tame you? Will you cheat on me and spend all my grocery money on your latest fix? Ooh you sound sooooooooo bad and exciting, cos you're appealing to women who 'like bad boys'. Dick.

A-Positive: This is a bit too blood orientated. Immediately makes me think of H.I.V. which makes me feel a bit sad. You sadden me A-Positive, and this is no way into my heart. Not at first anyway.

cheeseman69: ok, so he likes cheese, or is it something sinister, like the state of his genitals? Coupling 'cheese' and '69' in the same breath isn't a good idea.

SINGLE4EVER: Well ok then. Is it meant to be a challenge? Are you playing hard to get? Not working. You sound like a frightened little boy wetting his pants. Oh no photo. Wait. Sorry, you are probably very ugly and will actually be single forever. Now you've bummed me out.

completeasshole: this is the name a really clean cut douche bag gave himself. Once again, he thinks he'll get the edge by being so, so funny! What he doesn't realise is that often people reveal the greatest truths in jest. As my mum always says "if someone tells you they're an asshole, believe them."

gspotty: this is today's winner
Gee gspotty, even though you're at least fifty, I'm impressed that you finally know where the g-spot is and so cleverly incorporated it into your nick name. You're such a fun guy! I'd love to COME all the way to Hawke's bay to meet you and see that you've no doubt listed your age and height with a few minor adjustments.

Yes, so you see, many minutes of free amusement can be had just looking at what people call themselves. I suppose I could start calling myself douchebagfun! and I'd get an amazing response. But I'll hold off for now.

So it's 2012! Love and acceptance rock my ass.

Happy New One!!! You survived or thrived. Well done.




New Year's was exactly what I wanted: low key, good company, lots of laughter. Went to Lou and Johnny's in Devonport (feels like I've slipped into Lou's life like a cat). Lou lives next door to her parents in an amazing old villa, and she and Johnny make you feel so welcome, they are so easy to be with.



I also got to meet Eliza, a charming quirky bird, long limbed and elfin. I told them about my new year ritual, and the girls were keen to perform it - the writing of what must be burnt and let go, the invoking of a wave of positive intention. Very witchy pooh.

New year striking was kind of funny; we jumped in the car at the last minute and were all yelling various instructions as to what to do, where to go, why, why not, oh my god look at all the fucking losers gathered in Devonport! We ended up somewhere opposite Devonport food town staring up at the Sky Tower; shrouded in forboding grey clouds it was pronounced "mushroom cloud apocalyptic". Becky was disgusted.
"Well that was fucking pathetic!"
Yeah. Fucking clouds. How could they? Then we started to think of how funny it was that all these people had probably waited for ages to see all these fireworks, waited with their little necks craning upwards, sunflowers searching for an elusive sun. Eliza was concerned that we might have all hugged prematurely for new year, and for some reason this struck all of us as really funny. "Don't go giving away hugs if you don't need to" taunted Becky with her classic laugh.

It was then onto the beach to do the old year/new year ritual. Lou was coughing deep in her chest. The wind was blowing hard, and what was first exhilarating soon became a bit cold and uncomfortable, sending us running back towards the shelter of a large tree. I put my hand on a slug. Eliza screamed when a small shrubby sprung out from the base of the tree. She said it looked like a possum. I admit, I saw it too. The possum shrub. It lay in wait for that moment.

We all kept laughing at anything and everything and we weren't even intoxicated. I guess we all just got high off being around each other - around other people who are mad, ridiculous, loving and bold. I love that. I need that.

We went to the other side, over by some Navy Museum (where the girls burnt up the list of things to let go off with manic enthusiasm), where it was sheltered. I instructed the girls on what to do to let go of past shit and embrace this new wave, to yell out 'I feel different!' and such.

Johnny smiled and tolerantly waited in the car. Lou was losing strength, coughing like an old man on the street. We all ended up somewhat thrilled though, our feet doused in the ocean, the current pulling away any guilt, sorrow or self doubt contained in 2011. Ha, I can imagine Lou saying that in a sarcastic way "oh, it was thrilling!".



But you know, it was thrilling. To be with good people who 'get' you. To not have to be anything more or less than exactly what and who you are. To share your hopes for the new year.

I have an old friendship that appears to be dying off, yet as it's done so, these other connections have sparked back up. Here's the phoenix. Who'd have thought a spark remained in ashes for so long? As for the old friendship - it would be lovely if she came through, but I'm not going to bend over backwards and eat shit for anyone anymore. That's over. O.k, exaggeration. I might bend over backwards and very occasionally eat shit if you are sometimes willing to do the same for me.

Now, if you see me, remind me I am not allowed to do charity work on the internet dating site. I am such a knob sometimes. Oh, and thanks to a certain friend, we now know why you call someone a 'knob' or 'nob' as an insult. I imagine it's derived from 'snob'. Imagine is all, I haven't researched it. The other would be that there really are men who have very short, thick penises that actually do resemble door-knobs.So calling someone a door knob style cock isn't very pleasant is it?

Anyway, what I'm meaning to ask is that you remind me not to do charity work on net dating. For example, I've continued talking to this guy on the dating site who is possibly intellectually disabled or extremely Aspergers ... or he's taking the piss.
I want to help him. I want to give him advice on how to talk to people, that if you like a woman you might want to ask her a few questions before asking if she'll sit on your face (and he wrote LOL). Yeah, when I put it like that, I think I might have to leave the educating to someone else. Curse of the teacher. My burden: to want to educate every fuck wit that crosses my path! Ha ha!!

Well, we're all just doing the best we can aren't we? Fuckwits and nobs, bitches and dogs, saints and sweethearts all.

Love and light. xxx

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.