Awaken afresh a fresh start, art is the awa through which my energy engages it’s flow. I flew a million miles to get here, neither a him nor her, a hermit heretic hell-bent on healing harm…arm myself with aroha.

The New Zealand elections were last night. It looks as though we will have the same government agenda continue and yet amplify it’s dangerous and colonizing intent. The decision-maker is a well known bigot and blamer of Māori, even though he is Māori.

It’s time for Māori to truly commit to the vitality our ancestors have gifted us over aeons and refuse this process to progress. We will see a regression in policies and a return to tactics that seek to wipe us out. We must remember the 70s and 80s when we protested this country the fuck out it’s reverie.

Battle strategy tactics on the streets, in boardrooms, in classrooms, in conferences, in courtrooms and in council chambers.

Challenge the process, deny it and utilise the wairua of te ao marama to bring back the light to our hearts in this world of deadened emotions!

I feel fuller than ever before in my life…so this is what it is like to feel good?

I have been flying all over the country lately, every week somewhere different spreading my art research.

I received my thesis examiner’s reports last Monday. They are both epic. I have my oral exam and final exhibition-performance in a few weeks. I am going to rock my art like never before. I have joined a gym and been training my body like the  beautiful androgynous muther-fucker I am, as often as I am able. Three weeks already and I look sleek and dangerous.

Swim fly run rings around the burning sun. Time to get up for kapa haka practice.


I’m taking myself out to the movies tonight…to see Transformers.

I pretty much spent most of the day in  bed, after cleaning my room and burning some sage and then sweetgrass.

I needed some chill time to release the pent up PhD anxiety…which for the most part is over.

I submitted my thesis yesterday.

It is a beautiful thesis. I’m so proud for my achievement in getting it out. I was on TV the night before last and lots of people have been saying, “hey, I saw you on Māori TV the other night…amazing korero bro”.

My skin is hideous and I need to get my body back in shape after these years of not looking after myself properly to birth my research taonga.

Come back to the world.

Get up


Wake up you

Get golden hued

Find the fitness

Meet the witness

Magic in the middle

You do the math

Cement the path

Time to solve the riddle

Today I’m doing things simply. This week has been dramatic but I’m firmly grounded regardless.

In 5 days I’m handing my PhD thesis in. Just a few little edits left and off to the printers on Monday. I gotta get some paid work done too, so that I can afford to pay for the printing lol.

The head of Native Studies in Arizona wants me to go there and help them set up a creative practice PhD program. That’s a job for this week, beginning that discussion and looking for funding. I’d like to go for a year.

I submitted a few abstracts this week. One was on barriers to healthcare access for transgender Māori, the other was on kaupapa Māori creative strategies to empower the HIV sector.

I have been cray emailing cuators and scholars all over the world during the past week as well. I think there needs to be a Takatāpui/Two Spririt gathering in 2019, with a focus on creative practice and relational strategies toward healing our land, communities and futures.

I don’t care that I’m a black, hairy, HIV positive fucking tranny who’ll never get the chop cos I love my dick.

I’m guna change the world.

Nerves of steely heels


The weather has been warmer this week, although winter is nearing closer. I cast my mind back to the sweltering of Rarotonga…that was a time in my life I shall probably not forget, mostly because I did not enjoy being there at all.

The hostility of love when neither partner can fathom feelings, let them go and simply enjoy the surrounds. I can’t go back and change things though…maybe it’s all history forever.

I’d like to think not.

I’m fretting a little as a ready myself for a nighttime cigarette before an early night. I’ll be getting up early before the camera crew and interviewer arrive. Luckily I know the person interviewing me.

I’m a bit scared about opening up to a faceless audience, revealing my traumas. When I commit to talk story as research it’s always powerful. I definitely know my shit and I have aeons of ancestors within my throat, they can be heard in the resonance which bewitches. I lull minds to awaken with my talk-story voice…it’s ancient and lyrical.

But still, it’s me…people will watch their TVs and through the feature, people will know how fallable I am. I need to keep reminding myself I came back from the dead and have rewoven myself, and that’s a transformative tale to uplift others.

Sleep, sing songs of echoed anachronisms, like lullabys of words forgotten and out of their use by dates. Fates collide in the stillness of a body that sways between states.

Maketh me through mimicry, pretend my heart still beats, neatly folded away within layers of forgetting. The sun it rises and falls so slowly. I tamed it to give myself time to shine.

It’s all mine, a minefield of yielding but never stopping, bending but never ending. Begin again and again and again.

Intentionality – intense

International incursions, forays that inspire intentions.

I’m right at the finish line, panting with pace to ace myself…finally.

I figured I found aroha in the form of another, and I did. Our encounters are encouraging, Earthing me to my connections that reach beyond the stars. Starting each day with him/her in my mind and heart is warming.

Warning – do not get lost in love.

I’m listening to Elton John’s Tiny Dancer on my 60s 70s and 80s Pandora mix – this radio station reminds me of that guy in Hawaii, what a cute fulla – uncomplicated and chill. He must’ve thought ‘what the fuck’ when we did our dash.

So many different energies being bound up in this thesis, sometimes I wonder who lived all the lives I describe in its pages…in part they are mine but in part they belong to huka.

He’s a good kunt huka, but he does limit me within the pages and projects of my PhD research. I’ve enjoyed performing him sometimes, other times I have hated his guts because in performing him I lose bits of myself that have always been important.He’s more human than I – he’s quite primal in fact, a fiction though he really is.

I’m letting go of him as I write this other body of text where the words count, have deep meaning and will ripple outward with integrity.

Strange to have to perform a trickster to trick myself back into living.


Pākehā new yeah

This is a Pākehā new year apparently -we have to go by the new dates that some random megalomaniac in Italy devised for y’all a few thousand years ago. It’s a fad that won’t last cos it’s out of synch with the reality people are finally starting to wake up to.

There’s no such thing as time.

In writing that, I’m glad that one phase is coming to a natural conclusion. I’ve been focussing on finishing my thesis…I mean, for the past four years I have been saying that I am focussing on finishing my thesis, but now I’m nearly finished…26 more days and then I am sending it off to my supervisors for final feedback – print and then submit.

These past few months have been intense so I am enjoying wiping some slates clean and moving on with life, it’s time to let go and be free for a welcome change.

I have started doing some very low key performance artwork in Rotorua, where I live. An old man physically abused me even though I was only writing a story about our polluted lake with chalk on cobblestones…he even tried to push me in the lake before I turned into an angry Māori betch. Really, this series of performance works are the winding up of my PhD creative works. I’ve realised that my PhD project has been a process of stripping my artwork back the essentials, where my voice is no longer trapped and enslaved by the expected layers of thinking demanded by academentia in contemporary art. Screw ‘contemporary art’ and ‘art theory’. Fuck art, I’m into the creation of taonga. I enjoyed making taonga about taonga yesterday…it made me free again.

Anyway, back to the thesis at hand xxx

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 :).