been thinking a lot about my blogging friend Johanna.

i reckon, with all thats happening in the world right now, she woulda been right up in that grill, fist in the air, screaming for freedom.

I remember the first time i had a slightly heated, possible ‘disagreement’ with her in this realm lol. it was something i came appreciate deeply .. that she was never afraid of stating her perspective & listening to that of another.

on this particular occasion, she’d been to walmart i think it was (we dont have that here .. but a few crass equivalents lol) & she had been treated deploringly. she’d rounded off by stating that there was a prevalent ableist & ageist attitude which she had experienced there .. not the first time .. & was bound, to not be the last.

my rebuttal as such, was more out of offence for her, for having been treated that way. i came back with my usually .. ‘fuck walmart & make sure ‘we’ dont support them’.

as an activist, this is a powerful tool to wield.

however, i was surprised (at first) at her comeback. she quite abruptly noted that the ‘poor’ sometimes didn’t have the luxury of making a knee jerk reaction like that.

she broke it down thusly :

she lived in a small complex, it was cheap & generally unmaintained by the landlord. she had fought hard to find this place & while she was quite happy to take her landlord on, she was aware that her options, if she should be ejected from the property, were extremely limited .. actually NIL.

so from where she lived there were a handful of shops she could purchase her essentials from, walmart being one of them. out of those handful of shops, there were 2 she could afford to shop at. again, walmart being one of them.

i came back with the shopping online rhetoric (god, i cringe now ..) .. & she noted that her internet, as it was, was limited.

then she went into receiving ‘disability’ payments (as such) & what that looked like & that spending copious amounts of time and money on internet connections weren’t an option.

i came back with going to a library or mcdonalds where the wifi was free .. *eye ball roll* .. she came back with her limited mobility.

sweet geezus ..

we went back and forth like that for quite awhile.

from my end, i was trying to give options i thought she may not have thought of & aim for the whole empowerment gig. she, in all her aged wisdom, kept coming back, not with, negatives per se, but realities. & realities that i fucking completely understood.

in hindsight, i get now, she was trying to school my ass, gently. that while the ‘fuck the power’ part of me wasnt wrong, & was definitely passionate, & based in my own struggle .. i wasnt hearing her in her entirety. that her lived reality was more than 6 steps to freedom.

i think of this interaction often at the moment.

i’m well aware that my normal looks nothing like ‘most’, that my struggles are misunderstood by most, that my ‘working it out’ also looks way different than most.

and thats ok.

but for those that i love .. that are learning .. that are actually trying to understand .. i need to be a little more patient with them.

like she was with me.

i miss her.





i enjoy



and art.

i’m socially


but looking


a partner

in crime …


wrong site, my bad.








Homai to Aroha


our black panther, Ika. xo

As a general ‘rule of thumb’ …

[which by the way, was an old law which stated that the stick you could use to beat your wife was to be no thicker than your thumb …]

it tends to be that one theres one or two things going to the shitter, it seems to propel a landslide type of effect.

Well, it does round here anyways.

After what I thought was a cunt of a day, and the ‘wins’ that a strove to find throughout it …

Our cat got sick … so sick in fact, that he died.

Now I’ve said it before, I’m not a huge animal person and I have attachment issues *groan and eye ball roll*; so I kinda thought I wouldn’t be upset with the passing of our fur ball.

But I cried like a little bitch. And I’m still reasonably upset. I think I was more upset that my partner was so upset. Our cat was his compadre <3

*Digression: Parents: Let your little biological males cry … in fact, encourage it! It’s fucking healthy!

So with the cat gone and the partner off to bury him, the real estate people we rent from, show up for ‘a house inspection’ [hate those] and the ‘For Sale’ paperwork for the house. So its official, the house is up for sale as of this weekend. Roll on intrusive Open Homes and awkward questions ewwww. Anyway, I think we have that sort of sorted … and I’m just gonna roll with it all … oh, and get some more anti-anxiety’s ;)

But theres this uneasy awkward feeling … I guess cos shit is changing …

The upshot: I survived / am surviving the loss of an animal that I thought I wasn’t attached too, and the tears and the attached emotional element thingees … and that as much as I don’t like them and they make me feel like an awkward retard … I am Ok.

The house will get sold and we will move on. We might not be by our beach anymore, we might even be in a tent on my daughters front lawn … but we’ll be Ok. I will be Ok.

Anyway … I miss our cat. And missing shit sucks … but I wouldn’t want to have Not had him around.

I guess thats the pay-off, or not, with attachment and love? I’m still figuring it out … and rolling with it …

kpm © : ig @kpm-artist



My Pledge

#throwback Nov 13, 2016 @ 11:24

Written by my friend: Johanna <3

In all my readings over the last few days, no-one has responded better, in my opinion, than this self proclaimed “old woman who happens to be white” and is “not proud of what other members of” her “race (and the electoral college) have done in electing Trump. What can I do?” <3

All Things Chronic

As an old woman who happens to be white, I’m not proud of what other members of my race (and the electoral college) have done in electing Trump. What can I do?

I pledge to stand up with every group that Trump has denigrated. I pledge to be vocal about my support for the LGBTQ community, people of color, women, veterans, the disabled, those who suffer from mental health conditions, the homeless, and of course, pain patients.

If you want to be a racist or a bigot, you cannot do so if I’m around. This has nothing to do with political correctness. This is about being a human being.

On the internet or out in public, at Walmart or in Walgreens, if you behave like a racist, sexist, or homophobe, be warned that I will call you out on it. I’m not afraid of you. You think Trump has given…

View original post 27 more words


old friend? … “miss you Johanna”

And this was the last time I heard from You :)
Thanks for re-writing my Poem … I like yours way better lol.
I hope your well wherever you are and you’re giving those your with, shit to think about! I miss our conversations … I miss you! But I think you’d be proud of Me ;) I’m still working my shizz out!
Did I ever thank you for being the first person to conversate with Moi? You’re a brave lass lol! And I appreciate the hell out of you … I think I may have given up you know …
Love yah long time my friend xo

kpm ©


hey raewyn

hey raewyn

you probably don’t remember me

but I remember you

remember being buds?

we used to hang out, chill

like kids should

I’d come over to your house for the weekend

we’d do chips and lollies

watch movies

play on the trampoline

we did that for a year

I told you about our church

that it was nice to be somewhere else

you agreed

you said you didn’t really have many friends

you felt awkward

remember when we started college?

you would come by on your bike

and we’d walk to school together

we had a few classes together

but we’d meet up for lunch

walk around the back field pointing out all the losers

and then remember when you rang one morning?

you said you weren’t going to school


next day you said the same thing

but you were at school

next day I rang you, but your dad said you were busy

the next day I rang again

you were busy again

you were walking around the field with the losers

I cornered you in the hallway

you smiled and said you were busy

bullshit bitch

what’s going on?

“Dad said I couldn’t hang out with Maori’s anymore”

Ohhh why didn’t you say

I’m part white, you know that right?

“Yeah, but you’re a Maori. I can’t hang out with you anymore”

Yeah I got that bitch

Fuck you and your Anglo-Saxon heritage


kpm ©


Thinking of you, Johanna Stahl …

That was a title she’d use when she most eloquently would remember and honour the passing of someone. From the least to the great of them … the Vet who had been forgotten by his country – and the Legends who gave us music to cry and reminisce too. She honoured them all.

And today, fresh warm tears that I can’t seem to stop for the fucking life of Me … have plagued my day, as I remember a most bodacious woman who has left a most bodacious mark on Me.

Strangely enough, I never thought I would find it such an emotional thing – to lose a blogging bud. You know – never having met in person and all. But the strange thing with this blogging routine – you find the loveliest of people in the strangest of places.

Johanna has a way with the sarcastic and profound. And I think these are two of the things that I admire the most about her. She shot straight, and I mean straight, from the hip. Not to wound, but to kill.

She’d show up on my sad-ass posts, right at the beginning of my blogging career ;) … and to begin with, I thought she was some kind of freaky stalker who was looking to sell me a set of ginsu knives or religion or something.

But she came to encourage; to challenge; to take the piss out of something; to cheer up; to deliver information.

I came to look forward to and smile at her Gravatar; knowing that there was bound to be something I needed to hear or didn’t want to hear, all wrapped up in one huge fudge brownie, Trump dissecting comment ;)

And I’m going to miss her; terribly and profoundly. And I know I’m not the only one <3 She means a shitload to a shitload of peeps.

I know she’s an atheist and doesn’t believe in the religious concept of heaven; but I hope that wherever she is right now – she’s chilling with Prince and George Michael – oh and Carrie Fisher – smoking some delectable bud and eating some homemade brownies ….

Pain Free At Last <3

kpm ©





my rat.

This is Wayne. Wayne is a female rat.

She was one of the only little creatures that I actually loved. She used to live in a fish tank next to my bed, and when I’d come home, drunk as, at 4 or 5am, she’d come trotting out to greet Me. She loved beer and chow-mien.

When she was about 2, she got pneumonia. I ended up having to take her to the vets to be put down. On the way in the car she snuggled into my shoulder and stayed there the entire time.

I cried like a baby.

I hadn’t ever been so attached to an animal before. Not even the cat we owned when I was a kid … but this little critter made me smile … everyday.

I never had another pet or got attached to another animal after Wayne. Kind of sad I guess, but I couldn’t deal with the loss.

And it seemed pointless.

What I did learn, was I was ‘capable’ of loving something … but have chosen not too since.

Strangely enough though … this little furry friend, made my hellish life at the time, just that much more pleasurable :)

Thanks Wayne :)

kpm ©


and the dead dude is still here…literally

As we pack up…well actually I pack up, and the partner moves around the house making it look like he’s packing up…yes, I know your steez! lol…we came across ‘the bro’s’ “box”. Well, not really ‘came across’ either…we know exactly where he has been…in our house! We’ve had him here with us for nearly 2 years. And he’s been dead, nearly 3; and me  and the partner got to talking, as we do.

‘the bro’ is one of the partners very bestest friends…I call them BFFs, but that’s apparently not very manly…so ‘bros’ it is. There were 3 of them in their ‘pack’ and they’ve been friends nearly all his life. Each one of them make up a very quirky whole. And whenever they got together it was beyond funny to watch…but quite a mesmerizing blessing to be part of.

Anyways, the bro in the box, topped himself nearly 3 years ago. I’ve written about him before, and generally try not to delve into his story…as its his story, and he can’t tell it anymore. But as it pertains to me…well, that’s different. And as it pertains to my relationship with his ‘bro’, my partner, that’s a different thing too.

When the partners bro topped himself there was the disbelief phase, the tears, the grief, the anger…all in circles and roundabouts they came. He left behind 4 beautiful children; then nearly 3 all the way up to nearly 17. The kids had their dad for a year…and is the ‘custom’ (loosely said…), he was supposed to be put in the ground after that year had passed.

There was disagreement about where he should lay…whose urupa (family cemetery) he should be at. But these disagreements were just the tip of the ice berg(s) really. Some of the family said he shouldn’t be buried anywhere because of what he had done to himself. Some said he shouldn’t be cremated and left in the box to be sitting on a shelf somewhere (that somewhere is our house btw!).

But what prevails really…is denial, grief and anger.

And me. My point of view. For the family…I get it. Both sides. His and theirs. But he’s dead now. And he’s gathering dust on our shelf. How respectful is that to anyone?

Then theres the ‘my’ opinion pertaining to ‘the partner’.

I watch him wrangling with denial and disbelief…and then swinging into anger and grief and disbelief. He asks himself ‘why’ and ‘wtf’ in the most manly of ways lol. And that hurts me. Seeing him hurt.

And then theres the ‘mine and the partners’ view of the whole thing.

When the bro arrived here, I blessed his box and gave him the rules (yes I believe the dead can still hear us). I told him if he played up he’d have to go to the shed. Then we made room for him on the shelf in our lounge. The partner put his bros photo up and a few mementos. A miniature shrine is what we ended up with. But it was only going to be for a year…while the daughters decided where their dad should be laid to rest.

We deal with the grief differently than most I suppose. Don’t get me wrong…we’ve done our fair share of ‘why would he do that to himself…to his family…to his BFFs’. And then we talk to the bro…usually call him an asshole or a fuckwit followed by generally taking the piss out of the whole situation…we’ll tell him he can pick his task for the week…door stop…or foot rest…or cup holder…then we say to him, ‘hey if you’re gonna stay here, you need to pull your weight…’, all with a bit of a tear and a laugh. But under all that jest…it hurts the partner…more than me. I hurt, because he hurts. And laughter helps him to process all that stuff that he can’t explain sometimes…

But now, nearly 2 years have gone by and the bro has gathered dust on the shelf…and I wonder why they haven’t asked for him?

And that’s what me and the partner got to talking about.

For all the family’s disagreements about where their son, father, uncle, nephew…should lay to rest…none of them have actually faced that he is still here. That this dude topped himself. He thought to do that…because he was sad, because he couldn’t see a way out, because…we don’t know. Yes they may feel that it was a self fish act of violence against himself and against them…but we will never know…

And leaving him to gather dust on the shelf…

Well, now that’s sad.

For whatever his reasons were, he was a loved friend of the partner. And I get the family’s grief…but I think we get a say now…

So my real opinion, as it pertains to me…and my experience with suicide and death and love and depression and feeling sad and being trapped and…

I think its cruel to leave him locked up in that box for this long…when what he was looking for to begin with was…freedom.

Who are we to keep it from him now?

kpm ©