A Rickety Little Jaunt

To be a bird

'Oh to be a bird gliding into a tree,
leaping across the branches,
then flying off so free,
oh to be a bird, I'd fly fast with my friends,
Bellowing a boisterous cry, I'd lurch across the breeze,
As large and more powerful than a cessna,
I'd move at magnificent speed,
From country to country I'd fly about, twittering like a jester,
Terrorising the people below from Auckland to Manchester.'

There is nothing quite like a wee poem to get the heart laughing. I do enjoy writing nonsense on occasion and have another here,

Down to the Brine

'Down to the ocean is where I will go,
with feet and arms and hair in the sun,
I cannot think of anything as fun,
as waltzing down to the waters edge,
and dipping my arm in the salty brine,
the ocean's kiss salty and divine,
the power of the animals of the sea, and me
at one for a time, as in the water deep,
I forget the world and everything in it,
and float in space as it lies before me,
across the sky, anti gravity water baby,
I reason as to why, I am here and then remember,
Floating is more fun if your mind is dismembered,
I take it apart and float in the brine,
its aroma like strange and dangerous wine,
the brine the brine the wonderful brine,
drink it back, I swear you'll feel fine,
for a time at least before madness prevails,
and you find you know not any longer what sanity is,
then the brine will swallow you in, the sweet and salty brine.

I have decided to write a happy blog as I have heard there are to many whingers out there, I have elected to start the change myself, toward more positive and productive energy. For what use is negative energy when positive is so much more fulfilling and love producing? The optimist should always prevail, even if the pessimist ends up doom-fully predicting the negative outcome. With confidence and desire one should look to the future, mind constantly moving, changing and choosing.
In light of the happy development, I should say that anyone who reads this I hope you can always pull yourself together at any time you think you are drifting a part, and remember the amazing and wonderful thing that you are, as an individual, and of the people who love you, for as Jean Claude Van Damme says in the movie Narco-the secret life of Gustav Klopp, or adventures of a narcoleptic artistic frenchman,
'To those who love you, you are a star'
I like the old line that we are all made of stars as well, quite comforting really, knowing that parts of you have always been here.
Good tidings be upon you, for every day is a day of promise, as we wait and prepare for all eventualities with a mind unfettered by insidious worry, free to think and move across the earth as we see fit.

John Key shows again that he is no leader of the nation

Paul Henry has fucked up royally this time, and could, if things pan out right, have done serious damage to John Key's reputation as a leader of the nation. Key has proceeded to make excuses about why he did not say anything while live when it happened and then, when interviewed, deferred any comment on the possible outcomes for Henry.
Beating around the bush like a slack jawed lackey, he has confirmed himself to be the worst type of business school educated political hack. True politics involves strong rhetoric that uses issues like this to make powerful points for yours and your parties agenda. In this Key has failed miserably.

This little episode has produced a moment in New Zealand politics where we have seen John Key look absolutely anaemic on national television.

He has come out in the press afterward condmning Henry for what he has said, but his weak and dribbling references to the 'broadcasting standards authority', have underlined that he is not really a leader after all. He never really seemed to have the right manner to lead this country and though he may manage it in an efficient manner, he is no leader.

A real political animal, with a bit of fire in his belly would have sensed the opportunity to put Henry in his place live on air, instead of sitting idly by and cracking a lame joke. If somehow such a figure did not manage this they certainly would not have engaged in the politically correct vomit that churned from his mouth in the interviews following this incident.
The problem with Key is, he's got no balls, Helen Clark had balls, she was someone whp generally took people to task for saying such ridiculous things. Imagine Muldoon seeing this weak willed cream puff in office? He would have chewed Key up and spat him out on parliament steps before the morning break.

Key has finally been shown up to be the epitome of the 'business management' degree holders, good with numbers and business, but useless in the speaking halls and too slow of wit to work without his speech makers.
It was actually identifiable all along and in effect is a tribute to the National party machine in that they took such a candidate and sat him in the prime ministerial seat.
Key may recover from this slightly, but it seems to be a bit of a warning that further spineless blathering could be on the cards for this so called 'leader of the nation'.

The medicated generations

I am pretty sure I am one of the medicated generations, for there have been a few. Medicated throughout life, from birth to death, with all manner of tonics, medicines and pills.
Thats right, to get through life now, the people in the world who have everything, take lots of pills to deal with having everything, mainly for the guilt of having everything and watching children dying on tv. Hahaha, well, perhaps not always for that, there are myriad reasons of course, you name one.
I must take these pills, because I cannot cope anymore.

It seems a modern phenomenon, and to a certain extent and looked at in a certain way, it is. However, if you look at it as just a progression, there have been 'priests', 'wizards, witches, 'shaman' etc. taking medicines and administering them to others for thousands of years.
The modern world though, is quite full of the notion that we need to take pills because our brains cannot handle the pressure. If this is indeed the case, then why are we not addressing the reasons that everyone goes crazy?
The beast that is society is driving us all crazy. The ravenous animal that is destroying earth and its inhabitants for the sake of securing more 'resources'.

Let us pray to this beast to save us. The beast has proven there are no gods. Then who can we turn to for comfort? Take these pills. Who made them? Doctors and scientists and laboratory technicians. Oh good, down the hatch.
Medicate or face the true peril of the earth. If you choose not to you may just choose self medicate with drugs of your choice, which is a big no-no. The state controls your drug intake, or else. Free will is a dangerous thing as well.
So the state gets you when you pop out of the womb, you get hit with something, and from then on it is the thing that is turned to on any occasion of distress or injury. The comforting caress of medication and all its safety. Honestly, how many harmful medicines do you think have been made available over the years. The perfect example being doctors who prescribed smoking as a good way to deal with anxiety. Perhaps a little extreme, but then extreme in these circumstances is something that goes to gigantic proportions, so really its not an extreme example at all, unless you want it to be.
The state controls your meds, you're schooling and then you are out into the workforce, an element of the larger state, a participant in its systems and a consumer of its information and sustenance. This is not a bad place to be a lot of the time and many roll along in the sheer nothingness of it, as they 'work sweat and slave, saving for a shallow grave' or words to that effect were said by Jim Morrison, the crazy and gifted singing deranged poet who had some interesting insights.
Rolling along in the nothingness of it until something unfortunate happens. Not an accident but a blemish of the soul, an emotional pothole. Where to turn? Well, I know someone who started taking these, they gave them to me, try one if you want. Okay.

Why are we not looking at the root causes of this dependence on meds and fixing it where it is coming from. Children are administered psychiatric medicine at some ridiculous ages now, and for them, it is just the beginning of a life in the grip of chemicals, and the whim of their psychiatrist.
Does this not strike you as odd?
The scientists are just the alchemists evolved so it should be expected that they should create chemicals that contribute to the alchemy of the state system that creates gold from the hopes and dreams of billions, for the greed of a greedy few.

Of course this is forgetting all the 'crusading' (unfortunate reference to a rather depraved military conflict) scientists who are out to save the world. They are of course to be admired for their tenacious will to succeed and excellent and innovative skill ratio. As I do.
It is the state that controls us now though, the great automatic robot of the state that has now been programmed a certain way and we can never go back state. Yes, that state.
I walked outside the other night and paused with wonder beneath a gum tree at the back of the house, moving in the wind it shook, as the gusts twisted its branches. Off to the east were clouds on the hills and to the west clouds as well, rolling through the skies above me, I was amazed at the sheer beautiful power of it, the astonishing force that propels it, that which is by all accounts still far beyond man. In the force of its creativity anyway. Or even perhaps the force of its ability to unleash power while only causing superficial damage. Man have not really sorted this one properly yet. Just big bombs that come close to the force of nature but never truly will, because they have no replenishing factor.
Truly I am one of the medicated generations, as anyone reading this is. Just what the fuck are they prescribing people these days anyway, if you check it out properly it is some interesting study.
Back to the gum tree though, it frequently has a few Tui up there squawking singing and jumping about. They are a boisterous bunch, very comfortable in what they do. It is a splendid thing to see them behave in a manner we can automatically relate to characters we know. They leap from branch to branch speaking in loud voices, before one has enough and flys off and then is actually being chased off as another tries to attack it, in the air, a great show it is, diving and weaving like I imagine fighter planes would have in the days before jets. The slow metal dance of doom in the skies. Air combat. What a concept. The birds showed us how to do it I suppose, or we watched them and did as we saw, they actually did it without a care.
Something that is now beyond humanity. It is a rare person indeed, you find that is fully carefree.
They exist though, I have been one for a time, though in and out of this persona I have lived my life. From no cares to many and then whatever comes next.
Good evening.

Recollections of a Brilliantly Barbarous Birthday Bender

I remember it was my birthday, a Friday night in the year with three zero's. I decided to go to a concert with friends, for what better way to celebrate the passing of time than with friends and various attempts at hilarity? It was a magical time, there was an electricity in the air, our youth attracted it, like we were keys flying on the back of some scientists kite.

The city was alive that day, as it is most days, but with a tinge of energy that had me now and then entranced. My friends and I had elected to indulge in a splendid assortment of potions for the evening, in our minds assuring us of a mind bendingly good time. It was the beginning of summer, the promise of the new season had everyone in high spirits. The sun had shone during the day and its presence spelled out to us the possibilities of days and days of starlight to guide us on our forages across the planet in the coming months.

We were then very excited when evening came again to cover the earth, a soothing balm to the brightness of the day, though the land and things on it, still radiated the warmth of the now absent star. We strode down the street, kicking our heels up, yelling, laughing and telling great yarns of how wonderful we were.
We found ourselves in the surrounds we had chosen to take up before the evenings entertainment and stationed ourselves there for the allotted time. There was a buzz amongst us as we chose to imbibe fluid and some of the substances we had on hand to help us reach some conclusion that only each individual could know. But we laughed and joked and time passed freely like water running through a brook, it bubbled and coursed, as we did with it.

I remember this all as if I was there, but also as if I was not. I was someone else I suppose, an element of who I am now, but also something a lot rougher but also more refined, a contradiction really, something I find myself to be now also. The music was always a huge part of any time spent among friends, and the battle for supremacy that took place amongst us. Each trying to wrest control of the device which played it, so that we could attempt to show our friends what we felt when we listened to particular songs. Of course there were also the tunes that were loved by a few, but very rarely was everyone satisfied at any choice. The battle raged on as our actions became blurred, and then in certain moments, crystal clear, clarity and chaos, intermingling over the minutes and the hours.

We made our way to the town hall to hear the music. Two favorite performers this evening at the building by the pyramid and the suspended metal globe. The action of making way into the concert is a blur that is partially available to my mind as I heark back, but it has faded to the point where our entry to the actual organ hall is more readily rapidly reminisced.
We walked about for awhile and then I remember myself and a certain dread-locked fellow ended up dancing on top of a roof that was above the eastern door of the the hall, it was a great spot. A merry dance it was, though I remember complaining to my friend that the band kept bringing the music up before inexplicably diverting themselves from the crescendo. He laughed at me, telling me I was being controversial because of the potions and continued to dance.

I recall thinking that there was a especially conspicuous remember of this band that was nowhere to be seen. I peered down over the side of the roof we stood on and into the crowd, it was like looking over a cliff. All through the crowd around the stage I looked, before my eyes settled on a thick line of electrical cords, they snaked back through the hall, under the feet of parts of the gathered listeners. I followed the cords backwards through the hall, and suddenly there he was, the very fellow I had been wondering about, controlling the desk, arms moving in all different directions, turning dials, moving switches, tweaking the experience of everyone present, unbeknown to many of those listening.

Just then a familiar sound was heard from the stage, the beginnings of a bass-line from a well loved number of theirs and it seemed to spur the man at the desk to action of a different sort and he strolled from the desk toward the front of the hall, generating a wave of realization around many that he passed as they saw him go. When he reached the stage he walked straight on, picked up an acoustic guitar and started the riff that the crowd knew so well.
Illumination! A literal cloud of sweet smoke rose from those below as the song amplified through the hall and lifted the crowd to a new level of excitement.
It was a splendid thing to see all of this happen and I remember at the time thinking how wonderful it was and that it was a moment I would never forget, I am glad that I have not, it was spectacularly cool.
We danced like druids at an ancient ceremony, time flowing around us, suspended in portions of seconds, energy flowing from us and everyone else as the band played on, it was a truly enchanted moment, I remember experiencing the most maddening epiphany, spectacular insight into everything I knew for a few moments, and then it was gone. It whirled back to me again and again, after that, over the night and the weekend.

The concert actually ended soon after this and we left into the night, walking the streets, talking and laughing, singing and dancing, free in the darkness and safe in our group, but friendly and happy toward others as we ambled through the town back to the very place we had been only a half hour before the concert.
Conversations sparkled and died, moments of inspiration lit up the room and then drifted into the night, we replenished our supplies and went in search of adventure through the streets. We soon found a bar and played some pool, of all things, all incredibly invigorated by potions and a magical music show, but at the time it seemed to fit.
On through the night we bubbled and coursed, like water through stones, alive and imagining what we would do, then sometimes doing it and sometimes wondering why we imagined. The night went on and events moved around us as we whirled on through town wilder than before, now becoming torrential at times, as the water reached new levels, now more a waterfall than a brook and we cascaded into new places and conversations, new introductions and sometimes old faces met again.

We walked many places, a ball of energy now, amidst the slow drunken stumbling, we darted like hummingbirds compared to the slothful lurching and stumbling that went on around us. Eventually we made it back to the abode we had been in directly before we made our way to the gig and we decided it was time to listen to more music and carry on the party. We did so and then two strange visitors arrived.
They proceeded to sell us a car for a very reasonable sum, a ridiculous sum in fact and it was decided that myself and a chum would take this vehicle and journey northward in search of exotic herb. It seemed brilliant at the time, and it was.
We had a hell of a time moving the car onto the road as it was stuck in some mud when we found it, but it was soon on the road and myself and one who occasionally scrapes were off, around town we went, still buzzing a million thoughts a minute, but somehow making perfect sense to each other and finding our way to the motorway and northward. The drive was exhilarating and magic, certainly more interesting than many car journeys I have taken, though equal in eventfulness to others.
We reached our destination making sure we took many concoctions to keep energy up, legal and illegal and all in the name of fun and adventure. Once we were there we had to look about the place to find out how we would get what it was we meant to get. Luckily someone we knew helped out and we found ourselves with exactly what we had made the trip for and proceeded to my co-pilots friends house to socialize. All the while making sure we kept ourselves awake and alert, energy drinks, alcohol and other substances, the mind was flying like a mad dragon, wheeling through the air breathing fire.

We saw many people in this state, even managing a quick visit to my parents, which I remember partially. We went all over the plains visiting, seeing all sorts of people and blasting through time. Finally some respite, at a cousins house in the wee small hours I slid off into unconsciousness, a few hours I slept, before being awoken by my cousins son, as he rapped a popular rhyme at the time along to the stereo, dancing about laughing, I was flabbergasted at the time, it was a funny moment.
Soon after my co-pilot returned from his errand and we embarked again for the capital, to complete the mission, indulging ourselves in mind altering things again as we went, to the benefit of ourselves and others.

The most astonishing storm greeted us on the way through the middle of the island, thunder, otherworldly wind, horizontal rain, debris and lightning. It was a torrid time.

At one stage we found a tree blocking the road, and despite our state and the nature of our cargo, decided the only thing to do was to try and alert someone to move it. The one who scrapes on occasion, stayed at the car, intent on signaling the presence of the hazard, while I made my way toward the lights further up the road, battling the storm to try to get there. In the end I remember the only way forward was on my hands and knees crawling like an animal along the fence-line, the wind howling over my head like a thousand banshees.

It was a strange moment when I made it to the house, as a high profile event in the news at the time had involved criminal types invading farm houses and holding up the inhabitants, a young man inside demanded an explanation for my presence before opening the door. Soon afterward I was riding a tractor with his older neighbor, back to the scene of the accident, the machine fighting its way through the elements with us perched gratefully on its back.

It was amusing to see when we got there that a man had pulled the tree to the side of the road, a big hulk of a man, but one man all the same, my co-pilot and I were momentarily amazed, then said our goodbyes and drove off southward, through the storm, to the city at the bottom of the island. It was just after ten pm Sunday, the weekend was almost over.

Deterioration of Dompost

Why does anyone at the Dominion post keep making excuses as to why readership is dropping off. The paper now only has four or five good pieces of writing in it on any one day and leafing through the advertising and assorted rubbish that is printed becomes such a bore that it is far easier to just go online and read something you feel like reading.

The object of print media now should be to entertain and inform at new levels of excellence, as the main drawback of the internet is that there is also too much crap online. The Dompost has a chance to try to engage a new readership that continues to read the paper despite the medium becoming outdated and growing more and more obsolete with every new printing.
There is a chance now to redefine print media in this country and try to get a hold of specialist markets, people who enjoy the feeling of reading from a good old fashioned broadsheet while they relax.

People who will buy a newspaper because they like newspapers. They like reading newspapers. These people are being lost, despite many of them struggling to hold on. I myself am one, I occasionally still purchase a copy just for the sensation of reading from newsprint. But constantly find myself disappointed with the fare and flabbergasted by the sheer boredom that some of the contents bring to me.

The time of specialised markets in such things as books, print media and music is upon us. Some elements are taking better advantage than others. The Dompost could easily bring itself back from the brink with a new agenda. Paying good writers to write good stories and forsaking the endless merry go round of regurgitation that goes on in the various news sources of the world.

Have the news, but make it even briefer, have stories that engage the reader like old style journalism did, when writers actually seemed to really care about every word that left their pens, or keyboard for that matter.

Reading it on the weekend gone, there is precious little that is saving it at the moment. The hope for the future would be that the meagre amounts of interest that are there, could be expanded upon and turned into something that is worth following again.

Greed causes various forms of insanity

Having recently heard that a group representing my ancestors is claiming economic rights to the airwaves, I am dumbfounded.
How have they convinced themselves of this nonsense? A series of meetings? Consultation with their people?
I find it vaguely disturbing that they would associate this with Maori and in doing so render legitimate claims to the fate of rejection due to utter money grubbing polluting the collective notion of reparation.
Because there are legitimate causes for some reparation, including the approximation of land through force of arms contrary to the agreement between the Crown and Maori.
But in this instance it just goes to show the insanity that greed can bring upon you, the blind and slathering pursuit of the almighty dollar to the embarrassment of those who would seek to take a more rational approach.
It is with a wince of embarrassment and a heavy heart that I think the reaction to this sort of ridiculousness in the face of New Zelands colonial issues. Issues that are being addressed and worked through to the credit of the government and the people of New Zealand.

As Hobson said, We are one people.

Though of course there were those who elected not to sign the treaty and they chose to express their feelings for the crown in a different manner. As did members of the Crown element in their willingness to ignore the agreement from another stance.

We are well past all that though. Though in New Zealand politics such outlandish ideas as catching up economically to Australia it is time we stopped continually looking outside New Zealand and looked into the heart of the matter and started major surgery.
Cut out the dead tissue, revitalise areas that need it, get the country operating on a more sustainable level without indulging in over zealous economics.

It feels odd saying it, as it has been said often before, the people of New Zealand have to start acting like the people of New Zealand, with a collective ideal and vision, so that the future consists of all elements of New Zealand society, with the ability for all cultural identities being represented. Whether it is Maori, European, Chinese, Indian, Somalian, South African plus multiple cultural participation.

"Run to the hills"
"They're coming from the hills"
"Run away from the hills, if you see a hill run the other way" (or words to that affect)
Blackadder.

The hidden machinery of the

The hidden machinery of the capitalist fascist machine, gathers speed as it rolls on toward its attempt at dominating the planet. It really is, chillingly so, becoming like a futuristic movie out there, large groupings of rich people in secure areas of the globe and also within safer national zones.
Large areas of lawlessness, horror, poverty and death in others.
It is possible with certain amounts of money to live in relative peace, indulging in what you see fit to do while the hammer of the government falls on the populace around you.
Funnily enough, even if you are in a 'safer' more secure area, you are not necessarily safe because of the depraved nature of mankind.

This of course is not something new and humanity has always been inhumane, enlightened, brutal, elegant and depraved, throughout history.

But now we begin to see, like a thick mist rolling off the valley before a gentle breeze revealing the landscape below, a new and strange enlightenment comes to us.

As identity technology and it usage come into full swing we will soon see a great leveling of the people in an amazing way that almost takes us back to the days when large groups of citizens first got together to vote.
Everyone will be identifiable in a larger unit of population as they once were rather than as social groupings according to wealth, class, race etc.
What!?? You say, how can this be? There has never been such equality! Of course you are correct, but now it could finally be upon us, well, for the larger percentage of the global population anyway.

Identity and record of identity storage systems like facebook are the real beginning and future of mass data storage and collection for control of population and research of population variables and methods of categorization and control.

The amusing thing is that though it is a wonderful method of maintaining certain modes of population control it also forces the adherents of it to become part of it themselves in order to exist within it.

This creates the opportunity for individuals or groups to come into positions of huge power over huge groups of the world population.

But then the controllers are in fact under a reverse control which constricts them to the mechanisms of the monstrous capitalist fascist machine they have created, giving them no escape from it as it eventually destroys their minds as they try to discover ways to live forever.
Rant rant, blah blah, hahahaha.