What a crummy fucking coincidence. Thanks very fucking much. I cracked the shits.
“No really,” I said out loud, “Thanks for fucking nothing. Am I supposed to be impressed? I’m so sick of your fucking crummy little coincidences. I already get it! I don’t need any more small reminders. It’s them and their “coincidences just happen” shit who need to get fucked up. For fuck’s sake! If I hadn’t bought the fucking paper I wouldn’t even have known about it. It’s not fucking Wellington is it? Fucking useless. You could at least kill a few fucking people to really get some attention. You know what? Fuck you, coincidences do just happen. I’m fuckin’ over it.”
I was pacing the kitchen with fists clenched. I badly wanted to punch the clipping. I put the food away, slammed the fridge door shut and went and put my running gear on. If my legs hurt, good.
(Posted Oct 2018)
Hands up. Who can remember clearly what they were doing the day before they first learned of the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami? Yeah nah? Christmas Day was it? There’re many thousands of people who probably have it burned into their minds. Quarter of a million lives gone from the world. Alright everyone, put your goddamned hands down.
I learned of the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami when I turned the TV on to Channel Nine, to have a look at the second day of the wankers, who were most probably going to be wasting the opposition, with their usual onslaught of cunning stunts.
I didn’t know what the pictures were that I was looking at, nor did I know what Greigy was talking about. I thought at first that play must have been rained out, and that pissed me off. Worse luck. I couldn’t even have something, to follow on the bloody TV, to try and kill some time while work was shut down.
When I learned the truth, the memory of the previous day was burned deep into my mind. I’d already collected a memento which was hanging on my fridge, and I had another sitting by the front door.
The morning of Boxing Day I walked down to the supermarket to get something for breakfast and a newspaper. I found the special report and clipped it and hung it on my fridge. Then I cracked the shits about it and, there home alone, talking out loud, like the mad man that I am, I laid down a challenge. Then I put my running shoes on, they were very expensive, an early Christmas present from myself, and went for a run to blow out some fire.
(Posted Jun 2017)
The original Sep 2006 trip report:
Motherfucking Earthquake Wave Nirvana
Boxing Day 2004…
I woke up in a very bad mood. I was hot, stiff and tired from the day before and ahead was another day alone with fuck-all to do.
I was living in Launceston, Tasmania where I’d scored a job a couple of months earlier working on a hydro-electric generator rebuild. I hadn’t planned anything for the X-mas/New Year’s week off work. I didn’t want to spend any money as I was behind with my savings and the few work mates I had weren’t in town. So I was spending the break at home with the intention of trying to regain some fitness. My bike which I’d had air freighted from NZ arrived just in time for X-mas and I had some expensive new top of the line running shoes which I’d only used a couple of times.
On Christmas Day I donned my new runners to give them a go pushing pedals. I went for a three hour road ride. It was very boring except towards the end when I bonked (hit the wall) and was praying hard to find a Coke machine in a satellite suburb of town and did. Legs cramped a bit near the end as well.
So next morning I was hot and had some stiff muscles. It was enough to put in me a foul mood. I got up late and spent the morning trying not to smash anything. Later in the morning I walked down to the nearby supermarket to get some food and a newspaper.
Back at my townhouse I found an article in the paper about a huge earthquake off the Tasmanian coast in the early hours of X-mas Eve. This was something very special for me, a very miraculous coincidence, and I was pleased to find it and hung it on display on my fridge with magnets.
The article reported that the huge earthquake, biggest in the world for four years, hit the Sub Antarctic area south of Tasmania at about 2am on X-mas Eve, the same time that I was making the ‘mothership connection’ with a very cool sexy woman who was just old enough to be my mother and who had a son nearly my age and was a grandmother too.
The idea of creating an earthquake by fucking a mother had been in my mind since 2001. My great prophetic work of September 11 was fuelled by the idea of my status being confirmed by an earthquake notably coinciding with a specific action of mine. I often pondered the seemingly archetypal idea of that action being the intimate connection with a mother.
Previous to this occasion I only once had sex with a woman who was a mother. It was in Christchurch in 2003. She was an awful bitch who I only fucked to save face with friends and avoid copping endless crap. Some months later I was staying with friends where she lived and one evening she was extremely rude to me. I really wanted to kill the bitch and stormed off to bed where it took me sometime to successfully meditate my anger away. I awoke strangely early the next morning before the dawn and about half a minute before the Earth moved with a very sharp jolt and short strong shake. Not too common in Christchurch I believe.
With all that in mind I was initially pleased to discover this coincidence, a kind of Epiphany, a gift from the gods on this lonely Boxing Day. Yet another to add to my ever lengthening list. But as I stood there in the kitchen admiring it my feelings quickly changed to dissatisfaction, frustration and anger, which soon spun into rage.
Speaking and yelling out loud I had a full-on abusive rant to The Creator(s). Another crummy coincidence wasn’t what I needed in my life. And this one was fairly crummy. If I hadn’t read the paper I’d never have known (or so I thought at the time). I recall saying things which seem too incredible to believe and have caused me to doubt my own recollections, but my memory for events is generally like a steel trap. All I will say is that when I’m alone and feeling very dark I have a tendency to become a frightful misanthrope.
I was so on fire that I couldn’t stand still. I had to do something. I decided to go for a run, bugger the tired body, it was only cycling fatigue anyway. I ran hard for over an hour, pounding pavement with my new runners, which were just starting to wear in.
I didn’t turn on the TV, to watch the cricket, until the next day. Can you imagine my surprise when it wasn’t pictures of the cricket that appeared? No? I would expect not.
Oh yeah, there’s one last thing I haven’t mentioned. Those flash running shoes of mine, the model name is embossed on the tongue.
Boxing Day 2004: An XV Anniversary
“Motherfucking Earthquake Wave Nirvana” was originally written in 2006. It is the follow-on from “The Day We Will Never Forget (Prophecy 2001)”, my 9/11 story.
The year 2001 put me on a mission to demonstrate and prove the power of the universally symbolic story in which I was positioned to represent as a leading character. I began to develop my ability to wilfully create significant synchronicity, for which denial would be unreasonable and disbelief would be delusion. It became obvious that this was leading to something that would have to be monumental for the justification of my asserted position. This crystallized in my mind a couple of days before my birthday which, due to keen Aotearoan Rastafarian and reggae appreciation, I knew was Haile Sellasie’s birthday, when I was in the Wellington City Art Gallery with the song “Escher” by NZ drum’n’bass outfit Concord Dawn spinning in my discman, and I wrote the rhyme “The Penny’s Gonna Drop”. You know the story, right?
I was bothered at that time, as pretty much always, by a sense of the lack of true integrated embodied appreciation for spirituality as an active force, with society divided into camps of archaic religion, new-age self-help, atheistic sceptical disbelief or liberal lip-loving collectors hanging things on the walls of their boxes or inside their glass cabinets. Spirituality was being reduced to a cultural artefact which, in Wellington, felt extremely hypocritical. The mainstream zeitgeist, thanks to the empty bullshit of ‘generation x-crement’ was still basically some extension of third quarter 20th century aspirations with nicer international food, mountain bikes and recycling bins. So I figured this was like a ‘Babylonian’ anti-faith type dynamic that was due for a smack across its face, and that was the deal.
Consequently the interpretation was that Wellington was the lightning rod for all this and ‘the big one’, down the pipeline, was going to be released by my cut. So I chose the date of Wellington’s previous major earthquake to write on the back of the photocopy of the rhyme that I delivered on September 11, NZ time, 9 hours before…you know the story, right? I wrote a date because I had the sense that timing was an important factor. This is important. I had a sense, but if you’re trying to predict something that everyone’s always pretty much expecting to happen at sometime anyway, then you obviously need to be specific or it can just be the dumbest luck. It has to be a “What are the odds?” moment to demonstrate how one is streaming their reality on a tectonic scale. You dig?
I only wrote the date and named Wellington and added the “That’ll fuckin’ learn ya!” comment. That meant “Fuck you my hometown for ever disbelieving me!” I didn’t mention it at all in the covering letter, or anywhere else. Lest we forget…“Can you imagine what could be achieved by publishing the full details of all that relates to my story, internationally? Get the picture?” I knew I had to stay in the flow and let my actions be guided by what was flowing into, not from within, my reality stream. Internally I was hard-out visualising Wellington getting smashed on exactly the same date as it had before. A specific, significant date.
After Osama (presumably, the story sounds convincing enough) did the biz, I actually felt a bit ripped off. I wanted my fucking earthquake! So I worked on it…
To be continued (my shoulder’s aching and I gotta go to the supermarket.)
Fascinating. I was reading, a short while earlier, a description of the Higgs field being like a prism that gives symmetrical velocity photons different velocities, by giving symmetrical massless particles different masses, accompanied by a lovely dispersive prism photo. That was just before I walked down to the supermarket. On the walk home I faced an incredibly fat rainbow which was a surprise as I didn’t know there were any showers about. And just a couple of days ago I was reading that NZ’s only recorded tsunami death was in the Chathams in 1868 which was when most of the Maori, who had the indigenous Moriori enslaved, buggered off. It was few years earlier that the legendary rebel character Te Kooti had been exiled there with a whole bunch from the East Coast. They were called Hauhaus and were something of a cult combining biblical and Maori spirituality and had slaughtered a few missionaries. Te Kooti got visited by God in the Chathams, and then he pulled off a trick by covering his hand with ground match heads which burned without hurting him, and impressed the boys. Next thing they’re overthrowing their captors and taking over the boat that was there delivering supplies and getting a ride back to Gisborne or somewhere. I was reading about it in the Christchurch library in 2001 when I was moving on from 9/11. I somehow, by going through the library catalogue, found a letter, the real thing, written by one of the lads, in Maori, sent to the English bloke who had the farm on Pitt Island, where it was mentioned somewhere that the Maori fella had been doing some work. I had trouble trying to translate the short letter, but I’m pretty sure it was about the Millennium. Some stuff about 1000, and then 2000 and 3000, and maybe some other relevant words which I can’t remember. Following on from the story of Te Kooti I read the story of Rua Kenana, and ‘Te Kooti’s diamond’. That’s when I also found my way to the story of the Pitt Diamond. Which was kinda cool, given the Fight Club elements of my most recent exploit. I should mention how I met my mate Amelia, who made the legendary “Brad Pitt did it!” call, some hours after you know what, on George Street, some hours before you know what, by the intersection with Pitt Street! Yeah and there was that time, first week of 2000, when I was in the waiting room of a psychiatrist’s office chuckling to myself, so I had to say to the receptionist “I feel kinda stupid laughing to myself in a psychiatrist’s office, but I just thought of something really funny. I’m like Brad Pitt in 12 Monkeys! Goddamn, I must be the hottest guy on the planet!” I said it with a laugh and raised my arms. I was wearing a singlet and was very tanned and very fit. “What do you think?” I asked her. She didn’t say anything. She just smiled and blushed. The brightest blush I’ve ever seen.
What makes this really fascinating is I didn’t mention the greater synchronicity happening here. Almost all my wondering and thinking and researching this week, which has delayed me from updating my WordPress page earlier, has been about energetics, entropy, laws of thermodynamics, physics, evolution, the universe, life and everything! Hence the Higgs field rainbow. Very cool. (30/12/2019)
Posted so I can display this ‘Share’ link in my WordPress post “Motherfucking Earthquake Wave Nirvana”.
This Te Ara page also has an excellent link to a picture of Te Whanganui-a-Tara (Wellington harbour) before the approximate 15th century earthquake, which is part of the Whataitai legend mentioned in “Dreams Love Fucking Life Near Death and Some Other Shit (Part Two)”.
This is an obvious place to drop a mention of where I was 18 years ago: locked up in a forensic psych ward for a psych assessment over Xmas/New Year 2001/2002 after having done a smash and grab at Te Papa to take Te Rauparaha’s American foot soldier’s sword, which he thrust in the ground in Otaki when he was challenging the local tribe to build an Anglican church.
He said something, supposedly, along the lines of “Don’t fuck with me, I seek to fight my battles from the heavens only!” (Finding good online info on many of the great legendary tales from Aotearoa is not as easy as it should be. Too many social science heifers controlling narratives?)
Anyway, in light of my bio it’s pretty obvious why I claim that sword. There’s a bit to the story that is still untold for now.
But it is known that upon arrest I claimed it was a “sociopolitical statement”. Which I refused to explain, probably a bit too rudely to the court psychiatrist, but fuck him, what a typical Wellyhole wanker cunt he was!
So for sentencing I went with the “I did it to impress a woman” line, which the woman judge made clear she understood when she stated “Okay, so we don’t know why you did it.” Yeah you fuckers, you figure it out. Oh what, you don’t care to know? Awesome. A man like me needs a big challenge.
And so that leads to why I really did it. I was trying to make my earthquake. Like I’ve said once before, a bit of poke-o old Ruaumoko.
Move the Mother. For the daughters lost. If you build it, she will come…
Following on from 2004:
2.4.7. My World
The report on the incredible Solomon Islands tsunami synchronicity. Originally posted 2017. Written a decade earlier.