i woke up in a right state the morning after broadbent's 41st booze-up and didn't know whether to kill myself or go kiteboarding. it was a terrible night of excess the night before, involving a sordid collection of kiting personalities, all brought together in some dark union by vast amounts of sinister substances and a 28 foot long stretched ford fairlane hurtling out of control through sin city.

my head was thumping with severe bursts of pain, as i attempted to collect my wits and take my cat to the vet (he was in worse shape than i after sustaining multiple festering abcesses in a catfight days earlier). the vet shot him up with antibiotics and anti-inflammatories while i looked on, wondering if the same treatment would bring me back from the brink. eventually i had to shell out $141 for pharmaceuticals including ketamine (horse tranquiliser) for the little guy which left me just enough loot to afford a dozen scrambled eggs and a shot of go-go juice. my girlfriend quickly abandoned me after breakfast so i slunk back to bed only to be awoken mid-afternoon by a terrifying flashback from the night before - the hippy - all wound up about kiting at muriwai.

during the long drive over to the westside, we compared notes about how our twisted nights had degenerated. the last anyone had seen of el hipster's sorry ass was when it was frog-marched out of the green room at 3am (apparently the start of a long gambling and strip joint odyssey involving perrin as moral guidance officer / financier). i was simply lost to the night. genuinely remorseful of our wicked ways, we vowed to never partake of a single stimulant ever again. the hippy advocated a full year off, but i was keener to start with small steps like getting through saturday night without any form of tweak.

at the wild west, on-shore wave riding was available for the keen and we grovelled around trying to redeem ourselves. as usual, i got a couple of lame-ass rides then got mercilessly tagged. one foot stayed in birthday boy gavin's footstrap and my knee was wrenched at some unlikely angle, tweaking my medial ligament and reminding me of what a sad old decrepit alcoholic bastard i've become.

i'm slowly figuring out that kiting doesn't actually agree with me. the hits are too hard and all my mates are drunken mongrels who would rather run free after loose women than sleep in their own beds at night. i hope i never see a single one of them again and henceforth vow and declare and affirm that the way of the peaceful warrior is for me. no more big air, fast bitches, limos, speed of any description or the seductive charms of jim, jack, johhnie or black zambuca.

i'm stunned to learn that johnnienz alleges he saw me in a bikini - even through his drug-addled funk - but i know in my heart that even that is entirely possible. crushed ketamine tablets anyone?

www.stoptheaddiction.com/ :shock:

i dont know wat 2 say bro,im not even sur if i was there and can only pray there is no photo image proof. 8)

mate - i've got video and i'm gonna hang on to it for a few more years until the next celebrity drug scandal and then flog it off to the media!

B4 denouncing all your buddies as drunken slobs one must look deep within and find the source of your own suffering. It is here that one realises the total futility your life amounts to - may as well fill the meaningless minutes with a bit of laughter...

aloha soul surfer - you will re-find the force

you are very wise long-haired one. i have looked deep within myself and found the source of my suffering: it is approximately* 7287 litres of beer, 892 litres of hard liquor, 7.5 pounds of lolo and a few skerricks of other razzle dazzle, combined with a lifetime of dangerous pursuits like kiteboarding (an up and down experience), women-taming (an in and out experience), dishwashing (bitter experience), base jumping (limited experience), and hanging around a hippy with a propensity for public nudity (doomed to be continually repeated experience).

nevertheless, i have yet to realise the futility of my existence as long as there is a shiny blue sea, a stiff breeze, my main limbs are operational, my head screwed on and unencumbered by the above, as well as being able to rustle up a full set of lines, beat the traffic and steal a couple of daylight hours off work to indulge in that sport of kings, freaks, geeks and the occasional complete nutbar: kit'n that's what i'm talking about, and until my knee heals, that's all i'll be doing - talking about it.

*calculated consumption over 20 year career, allowing time for a decade and a half of relatively tweak-free childhood and adolescence plus a couple of brief wagon rides.

You. mi amigo, are already well on your way off the curb of insanity, bouncing back onto paved footing and the way of the Peacful Warrior!

I also point out that it is Fri nite and Im sitting at home stone cold sober, clothed (apart from the occasional cyberporn inspired spanking), looking after my progeny, and achieving some limited progress in my rediculously overdue GST sagas...

... one full week achieved without a mind bend of any sort!!!! - only 51 to go!

PS hopefully I will be allowed out tomorrow where my clear head will prevail, and I might even make the water for a decent session (unlike this afternoon where - along with many other dreamers - all i achieved was to rig and de rig more kites than the average human will ever own, for a paltry 35 seconds of deluded unhooked dangling!)

Bring on the Moose and lets hope it has some decent horns this year!!!

Kia Orana