I Hate Small Towns, Part Two

Often after people find out I used to work as a social worker one of the questions that they used to ask me was what does a child abuser look like, I used to say pick up a mirror and look at the reflection.  Abusers come in all shapes and sizes they are a percentage of the population.

The missing link.

 No not Rodney Hyde although that sloping forehead of his perhaps …. no really, successive governments have missed one of the essential things that contribute to a healthy society.

We have seen many changes over the time that I have been cognisant of society, from the mid 70’s to be precise, there has been a common theme and that has been a lack of permanence and a growth in what I call the throw away society, interestingly enough it corresponds with the time that McDonalds opened its first store in New Zealand.  Whilst there are many areas involved in our throw away society it is something more substantial than electronic goods or plastic fantastic two dollar shop rubbish.  I want to discuss housing.

The razor blades are blunt anyway, so don’t worry!

I hate small towns, I thought to myself the other day, well actually for the past 4 years to be truthful. I have spent most of my life living in small towns with an occasional sojourn in the burgeoning metropolis of Hamilton. It was reinforced for me the other day when I was tagged in this post http://goo.gl/a43u09 

Howling At The Moon

I am so glad I don’t look like that guy I thought last week as I walked though the supermaket.  Lanky,long,greasy hair, resting his substantial belly on the handle of the supermarket trolley, which he was slumped over as if it were a walker. Old before his time, no fire in his eyes, nor spring in his step.  One of a number of people I have seen in the past week that have sparked a sense of revulsion in me.

Revulsion is a really strong word but that is what I have felt, extemely judgemental,let me explain a little though. I have learnt over the years that the things that stir up the strongest emotions in me are the things that I recognise in my own life, especially what I might call negative perceptions of other people.  The man I described in the opening paragraph may well have a rich and fulfilling life, in shortthough I know nothing of him at all.  As I thought of how I had mentally pointed a finger at him I realised that three fingers were pointing back at me.  That is the way it often is.We point out the things we see in others that we despise in ourselves.  I am not talking about things that are despicable like violence ,racist, sexist behaviour or other things that break societal norms or laws but mannerisms, personal appearance,size etc.  For me a lot of those kinds of feelings are triggered by fear.

As I was reflecting on whyI had such a stong reaction to seeing these people whom all shared the common denominator of obesity I realised that I was afraid.  At 108 kgs I am fearful that I will slowly creep back to where I was 4 years ago.   A fat unfit slug with the life snuffed out of me, weaing old hawaian shits and track pants.  The idea revulsed me.  I am aware that I have been slowly but surely gaining weight over the last 18 months, from 93 kgs I got back up to 115, currently at 108.  The clincher was for me, trying on a 2xl shirt and finding it too small.  I felt physically sick and wanted to vomit.  I can give you lots of excuses but there is only one reason. I have been eating more than I need.  I kid myself because I can ride nearly 50 km on a trail ride but I know that my core flexibilityand strength is slowly dissapearing. I am getting fat in the face and round of belly. I can’t fit my skinny jeans.  What to do, pretty simple, stop putting rubbish in my mouth and down my throat, exercise more and look at what it is in my life that is affecting me so much that I want to eat for comfort.

The eating and exercise is relatively easy, my life is somewhat more difficult to deal with.  Life as a sole parent can be pretty relentless at times, and not having permanent employment adds to the stress.  I cannot change a lot about by circumstances that is the truth.  I am unsure that I can even change my attitude right now.  I do feel ground downwith barely the energy to even get angry at injustice right now, but I surely don’t have to shove shit in my mouth and stop exercising.  That I have choice over, Yes I have a number of physical issues that give me a lot of pain but I have those regardless of whether I exercise or not.  So with Winter upon me and the cycling not always convenient because of inclement weather off to the gym I go.  I have a goal and the absolute need to achieve it.  Will it make me happy to be well under 90 kgs, perhaps not, but I will be in a much better state to deal with issues in my life.

The fat man must go

I looked in the mirror
With much disgust
At that image
Its wasn’t august

Fat I see
Is everywhere
From head to toe
Nothing spared

Full of loathing and shame
 I look and  see
That soon I’ll be staring
At eternity

Clothes I own
More like tents
Nothing fits
Is my lament.

Watch this space

Paul

Thursday Night U Turn

For Uncle Trevor aka Mr Bojangles

A Thursday night U turn.

Hamilton, where the wild things lurk

on the golden mile.

Not so golden

For Mr Bojangles,

more dark,dank, damp,

derisive,dangerous and damaging,

that not so golden mile.

Thursday night on main street Hamilton,

Where kerosene cowboys lurk,

Boys drive fast

frightened not of riff raff, cows,nor sheep.

Unmoving monuments of brass,

But of Joe Citizen

just trying to make his way in the world.

No robbers to stop this time,

Mr Bojangles.

Just a moment in the new millennium,

taking time to smell the rubber,

hear the grating, crash,

metal on metal.

Rather next time be it roses,

Thursday night on main street.

No place for Mr Bojangles

 

Candy Crush , really? No thanks I am on a diet!

 

Here it is open permission (with a small caveat).  I, Paul Cronin, being of reasonably sound mind and slightly broken down body, officially give permission for any of my friends to hold a pillow over my face till I expire.  Now here are the caveats, firstly it will have to wait for a month or so until my ulcer has healed as I will expect to have been provided with a quality bottle of single malt Irish whiskey, You know something that is faintly reminiscent of a peat fire, on the smoky side, rough enough to be expensive and with a kick of an Irish punter who has one too many. Back up the horse buddy I can hear you say, your last post was a didactic rant about the evils of alcohol addiction and here you are arguing for euthanasia, assited by alcohol, perhaps I better explain.

I am a bit grumpy at the moment. I will hold my hand up and confess to that.  I can’t really talk about it in a public forum right now, suffice to say if anyone is interested drop me a line, broken dreams  haunting me like a groundhog day.  So if you detect cynicism, sarcasm, derision, and a general ill-humour, arohamai my friends. If I personally offend you then please contact me and perhaps we can work it out.

I read a status the other day that expressed a frustration around not being able to graduate to another level on candy bleep bleep crush At some primeval level a darkly malevolent  epithet formed on my lips.Now I have played video games and computer games, albeit many years ago. I was quite a fan of Sims, Solitaire, and for a while Command and Conquer, oh and that stupid archer shoot the balloons game.  Somewhere some how in the last few years I have lost all desire to play those games in fact over all I am pretty adverse to game playing. I do play cards every week which is good as it forces me to be social and reminds me of the benefits of friends and family.  So face to face games that involve human interaction I do enjoy as long as they do not get too competitive.  Competition is ok but it can bring out the worst in some people and the only thing worse than a poor loser is a less than gracious winner.  I don’t need that in my life and am happy to walk away from that or just refuse to play with people like that.

Not withstanding any of that narrative I don’t play games for a couple of reasons.  I would much rather write or read than sit at a computer screen punching at buttons in some meaningless quest.  I find the stimulation of having to think when I write (no cracks about that please  ) suits me much better and I am in much more danger of learning something when I read or write.  I learn about myself when I write, and about myself and others when I read.  I also learn about others when I get feedback about my writing which by the way I enjoy.  I would hope that at some level I am pushing buttons and getting people to engage with my thoughts and hopefully themselves.

I certainly hope not to be in that place of a careless provocateur and sometimes I do equivocate before I write because I know that I will push buttons for some people and some of my writing may be hurtful.  Never deliberately I hope but the role of a poet and I do call myself that is to engage, to influence and to inspire readers with mastery of language as intertwined with ideas and emotions.  I try to bring that into my blogging.The mastery of language well I do not say that I have that at all but I hope within my blogging I certainly meet the other criteria especially emotion and ideas, as I reflected on my last post it felt a bit dry in the emotions department, however it worked for some people and that is enough for me. Enough of that n ow, back to the whiskey.

If you ever find me sitting on the computer mindlessly playing games it will be because I have most likely lost the plot, kindly offer me a bottle of single malt and you can borrow one of my pillows, gently put me out of my misery.  You see if I find myself blobbing out with games then I will know that my adversary, mediocrity, has struck a mortal blow.

Paul

 

Warning may cause uncomfortableness and concern.

Not even one day she said, he cannot go one day without a drink was her plaintive cry to me.  I had no answer for her because we both knew the truth, he has a dependency on alcohol, without mincing words he is a drug addict for alcohol is a drug.  Don’t get me wrong here, I am not a wowser,

Illegitimi non carborundum I think they have this time

So there it is, staring me in the face, my old foe mediocrity, A bit of reflection today and a reminder of that which is important in life. I was poked and prodded Sunday week ago as I lay on a hospital bed,