serious time

let it buuuuurn

I have been working a lot lately – more than usual. My blog has certainly suffered for it too, although there’s lots of reasons for that other than work.

Generally, even  though I make art and write through many different platforms and in a range of media, at the moment all of my energy is going into my thesis…and then paid work, in that order.

At the moment I am listening to 90s house music. Holy shit, it is for the most part quite trashy – which more than anything reminds me of just where my head was at when I was a kiddlywink.

Serious-time, grind to the stoner no more, flaws out the door and domestic bliss is getting out of bed in the morning at the crack of day to jog it all out in my head – before putting fingers to keys to free the thoughts that have accumulated in the midnight mindset. I have a way to work that is specific to me. Weaving is life and I practice it in every essential reference to this and that; I hold on to all my thoughts and then just do what I do. Somehow it all comes together through my body and I surprise myself by the time I go to bed at the things I manage to achieve.

There are politics at the moment, as there always are … and as always they are pissing me off.

We live in an age where more and more people are realising how trapped we are in the makings of madness manipulated by mindless men and women, hell-bent on hierarchies of hypocrazy. We pay our taxes to these fuckers because we don’t have an alternative choice, and with our hard earned hours these monsters monetise our reality as collateral to secure debts, which ultimately they make money from. Our entire being is actively liquefied and traded through banks, they wank on and on about the greater good whilst ejaculating a sticky mess all over our lives, suffocating our pores and infecting us with dependency.

We can’t breathe and that’s what enables the primesinister of New Zealand to be a shady rich cunt, because to clear our lungs of his disease, we must submit to the big pharma he has in his back pocket along with numerous other ‘friends’ in ‘high’ places – we live in stress and anxiety and hunger, and all of these things contribute to our ongoing illness that will never be healed as long as we live these structures of democraycray.

We cannot afford food, because that too has been liquified through trade agreements. Even though the majority of our food is grown in the soil of our dead, its forced trajectories through stupidmarkets add the flavosr of toxic wealth, engineered by corporations, and in that exchange we simply keep losing our minds as well as our physical health.

Stealth, there is a web of deceit that we are in constant receipt of whilst never really receiving back even half of what we put in – in years, loss of time with our families, loss of happiness and addictions to superficiality.

The minister of Māori development has just delivered a bill to parliament that allows those entrenched in corruption at the upper-levels of our Iwi untrustworthy boards, to siphon away what little we have left so that he and his friends can line their pockets with dreams of being better than everybody else. The Māori party are colluding with those who seek to silence, subdue and alienate. Individualism at its worst. There is no sense in sitting at the big white table of fat politicians just to remove the things that make most sense to Māori people. Māori party, you continue to hurt us, your own relations. Thanks for your work on the reo bill, but WHAT GOOD IS LANGUAGE WHEN THERE IS NO LAND TO SPEAK FOR?

Those with power are turning back the clock to a time when exclusion was the norm, where people overtly hated each other, where progressive debate is not allowed, where god and the church are the same as the government (because really there is little difference between these concepts as they play out) and were anything that is not part of the trend is a problem.I read daily about police in other countries shooting people because they are society’s problems rather than people, they ask questions later and then get a pardon because ultimately, the problem gets fixed. In the center – the empire, those with power kill all those who stand in the way of progress towards accumulated wealth, liberty and the merkin dream, because these days there is no more hair down thurrr … everybody needs to look pubescent to maintain the facade of beauty. Merka, where as long as you look young and innocent, you can get away with living stupidity.

The landmasses are going to the dogs and the ocean is awash with our dead relations, they are being poisoned and bombed to extinction. It’s stink alright … that’s the smell of being surrounded by rotting.

So yah, busy writing my thesis and thinking about finding a husband as per usual.

Simple life me :).

 

 

compartments

Boxed in, deliver me from sin. What’s this all about?

I started something new a week ago, and now I am going through the motions of trying to capture myself a new sense of sensations.

I can still see the lake, but the vantage is different, advantage to me. I have moved again, but this time I have moved somewhere that is permanently mine for the temporal season of niceties. This is very new to me, and I am enjoying it.

I have moved into an apartment, which is strange… to live in my home town, but to not live in the pa. It’s not normal in this world to ever move out of home. You are supposed to stay there with your family forever.

But yah, I just couldn’t do that anymore. It was no good for me, I kept getting trapped in a life of pasts. They would ascend with the mists that slither from cracks in the stones, from the boiling mud-pools, from the groaning earth beneath as she wends her pathway through the universe. Those pasts, they are god tohu, but unless I am able to view them with a perspective of distance, they end up as bitter tastes, disdain, stances of stubbornness that wallow like stains on the sidewalks.

I really love the pa. It’s the daily drama that I do not like at all.

There is a name for it these days; historical trauma. It’s the ticking timebomb that tickles the back of the throat when things are going great, berate berate berate the past and pastiche it into all future assemblages. Sometimes, histories stay lodged in the vocal chords. They fester like the fear that feeds them, and when the sour sound begins to crack the air no longer bound by a body, they bruise, they hurt and destroy.

I have been battered to death my whole life long, more often than not by my own fists. I have been trained, educated and encouraged to hate myself.

It’s an ongoing song that I do not want to sing anymore. I want to forget those words and the tune, I only want to learn the harmony that has always eluded.

I read something the other day.

There is an election happening in this country soon…not that I care because I do not vote. Why would I vote for a system that is so completely broken? Regardless of who I would vote for, I would always be tricked into voting for a system that hurts people. One of the leaders of a conservative party thinks that it is time for Maori people to stop living lives of legal privilege. He’s fucked in the head if he thinks that being discriminated against, every second of the clocks that tick backwards, is a privilege.

It really hurts to read sometimes.

In New Zealand it is ok to be racist, as long as you are a politician or have a government funded current affairs show. When you are a politician in New Zealand, you are allowed to speak, write and have racist words published by the mainstream newspapers. They generally go unquestioned by the masses. It is often only brave people who name it as such…”racism”… but they and we, are always vilified by the trolls. The papers call it equality. I don’t really know what that is because I have never really experienced it. Apparently equality is when people who are victimized only have themselves to blame for their suffering.

I wonder why we pay so much attention to what is happening in Gaza right now. People acknowledge that it is terrible when Israel drops bombs on civilians. It is…it is terrible, tragic, horrific and saddening.

But it is just as terrible and sickening to pour a relentless rain of evil words upon a small group of people daily…continually for nearly two hundred years. It is horrific to see Maori children with glazed eyes roaming the street in packs, with only colours to identify them. Their names have been eroded by the torrential onslaught of bad political weather. Many Maori children today have no identities…now they are just gangs of youths who apparently need to go to prison. It is tragic to see our old people, hunched with the burdens of berating that has haunted them their whole lives…the things that turn to cancerous tumors and heart-attacks. It is sad to walk the streets and see poverty everywhere, in the THC smoke that will never numb our bodies enough, in the beer that will never erase memories of the ongoing trauma.

Nobody needs love these days. Just one law for all.

It really sucks to live with the fear that everything of meaning, might eventually turn to dust when the dessert of mourning tears become acidic…like our lakes and oceans.

And so now I have boxed myself in, to cushion the blows, to throw caution to the winds of hail that get thrown into my fearless face.

I was born a colonised Indigneous person. I hope the government lets me just be a person one day.