Going South.

Bluff, NZ.

Bluff, NZ.

Finally I’ve reached the very bottom of New Zealand (I lie, not quite the bottom, but close enough…)

Myself and two friends met in Invercargill at a quirky little backpackers know as Sparky’s. Decorated with the most bizarre asortment of trinkets and knick-knacks, I quickly became suspicious as to where the owner’s nickname as “Sparky” had originated form. Between his love of the notorious weed-hotspot Byron Bay, his vacant expression, collection of exotic paraphernalia, and general paranoia with everything, I formulated some idea. Whilst he seemed mostly kind and harmless, after a few days I decided things were getting weird; his belief that 9-11 was an inside job by the US Government was one thing, but threatening to kick me out for cracking my knuckles was a bit much.

The place itself was very cool and cute, with only a few rooms and a really fun vibe; it even had a spa pool out the back which was heaven in the Invercargill cold. Now that I’m writing about it, we really didn’t get up to much, but it was a good time nonetheless; played cards, drank coffee, baked cakes, got drunk in the spa. All good things.

Sparky's Lounge.

Sparky’s Lounge.



The trip to Bluff was…meh. Really, there’s very little there, and it was little more than a novelty. Still, it’s a cool thing to have done and I’m glad I had the opportunity to travel that far south. We found a really cool beach near Invercargill and endured a midwinter swim in the freezing water which was near fatal to my toes, but a welcome shock to the senses.


A tire puncture cut the Catlins trip pretty short, so I’ll definitely have to go back some time to see more. Still, it seemed sublime, and I’m glad we got there long enough to wet my appetite for more.

So, back in Dunedin, but only temporary, tomorrow I fly home to Auckland for the first time in ages. Recently returned from Wellington with my (then) girlfriend as a goodbye trip before she went home to France, so quite a bit of moving around recently. The Wellington trip was bitter-sweet; I miss her but that’s okay, I’m still happy! We cut a pretty sorry sight crying on each other’s shoulders at the airport.

A bientot.



The Shadow.

Hello my dove we meet again
this time introduced as friends,
I did not recognize your face
with a smile in its place.
But come now cherub what’s the joke?
I know time’s passed since we last spoke
you did not truly think we’re through?
I was never gone from you.

You let me see the space within
then opened up and let me in,
letting me fill you up inside
guiding your body down to lie,
and in those moments in the dark
you felt me close – I’m never far,
for I have crawled inside your heart
filled the chasm – never part.

I knew you cherub flush with tears
sweet little dove arrest your fears,
for you will never be alone
inside your heart I’ve carved a home,
caused a carnal black embrace
caressed the tears upon your face,
became your joy and your disgrace
saved you – laid you down, to waste.

Please remember, please remember
to when your happiness was embers,
and it was I who gave you warmth
took your hand and pointed north,
gave you pain and grief and anger,
let you crawl inside my manger.
My little love what I have sewn
will never leave you – no, no, no.
My little dove what I have sewn
will never leave you – grow, grow, grow.

A feeling of helplessness.

The worst thing about the past five or six years has been watching everybody around me struggle and not being able to do a fucking thing about it.

Up until a couple of months ago, I’d been in a relationship that had lasted about five years. Just how much I had changed and adapted to suit this girl seems scary now, in the cold light of day. But I’m not here to talk about that story, rather about how the most difficult part of our being together was her semi-constant unhappiness and me feeling totally powerless to change it. I blamed myself so much, even when it wasn’t me that was causing it; at points, I was a young, inexperienced teen, and all I could think was, “If I were better she’d be happy, right?”

But I was wrong, and sometimes there just is nothing you can “do” to fix things for people. It’s just the most terrible, hollowing realisation, but it’s true. I’m a person who really champion’s the people I love; i fight for them, defend them, protect them, and to use a beautiful lyric from Trampled by Turtles, “Their enemies are mine.”

However, I’m very much realising that while this sort of love and loyalty is a valuable thing, it also sets you on an emotional hiding to nothing. Right now I have a friend enduring the sort of thing that just makes me wish a flood would wipe humans off the planet; total brutalising injustice. I just want to be able to do something for her to make it better, to somehow fix things, but I can’t, and anything I say or do falls so wildly short of the mark that it verges on insulting the seriousness of what she’s feeling.

I talked to somebody about this feeling of helplessness and got pretty much exactly the advice I expected, “Just be there for them.” How exactly you can “be there” for someone is really a circular idea if you can’t help them when you know they need it. Anything you say is irrelevant and useless and it just fucking tears you up inside that you’re not good enough to make things better.

For self-preservation, I’d like to say to everybody in my life who I love, whether you know I do or not, that I’m thinking about you all the time, and if I could bear it all for you, it would already be done.

Anyway, that’s what’s crept back into my mind in the last couple of days. I wonder if it’s just me.

On a different note, I got my lip pierced. Neat-o.