Memories: 1 February 2025

1 February 2024

11 am I had another very bad night with my bladder last night. Omgggg. Then at 3 am I got fixated on the sound of my fishpond and worried I had left the hose on while cleaning it yesterday. So I ran downstairs to discover my fishpond was fine but I saw the interior light flicker on then off in my car.

I thought “Oh faeries!” But then worried I might have a flat battery so ran back upstairs to grab my car keys. I jumped in my car, switched off the interior light then turned on the ignition. The motor grunted into action. I sat for a minute. Turned it off then on again. Car booted up. So that was miraculous that the battery hadn’t been depleted.

So I go back to bed, try to sleep but up every 20 minutes to half hour. I finally get a few hours sleep from 5 am.

My cleaning lady texts me at 9:57am (worrying that I might be dead as she could not raise me!) I hear the text and leap out of bed to let her in. The poor woman gets scared when I don’t answer the door as she will have the job of finding me dead one day.

I tell her I am not dead but almost and I am just a zombie today after a very bad night. I kept a diary the past weeks of all my bladder activity during the night as frankly it’s astonishing and crazy making. The “Betmiga” or Mirabegron is definitely not working.

Oh and last night I started watching “The Sound of Freedom” which is intense and about children (2 million each year) who are kidnapped from their homes and sold into sex slavery) so I watched it halfway through but got triggered but also exhausted so went to bed at 11:18 pm then the intense pishing started at 12 am.

So I am not sure whether the intense bladder activity was caused by the stress of working on my bracelet for four days or the triggering from that movie but I had a very bad night on 29/30th January also, so this is just me now.

Oh and while turning my car on I noticed my neighbour Timsa was also awake during the night. Probably with similar issues! It’s getting weird! He would have wondered if I was going to kill myself in my car as it was literally 3 am lol.

So no, Mama T is not suicidal but psychic as something made me go out to check so all Jokes aside it probably really was the faeries saving me from needing to buy a new and expensive battery. Gratitude to my invisible protectors!

Oh and I had to laugh. I tell Ratih how I think I am dying because of my bladder and she smiles her radiant smile and says “No it’s just your nervous system! You will be fine. It’s just stress!” I tell her that I have gone insane in my old age and fragility, wanting a life partner when I am in this ridiculous state with my bladder. Who would want a woman who is up peeing every 30 minutes? Only a weird ass fetishist!

Then I burst out laughing. Who craves a lover when they are scrambling in the shadowlands and tentatively teetering above the abyss of Death? Me…that’s who! It’s completely NUTS!

Then I joked with Ratih (we were talking about how the Covid years were both a blessing and a curse and how my friends supported me so magnificently!) but that I still need a Patron, like a famous Renaissance artist as I have burnt out all my beautiful benefactors who fought to keep me alive all through the Covid Epoch with their gifts of love, food and even toilet paper and the air conditioner. That I have driven them all maddd and into poverty!

Ratih smiles at me patiently. She knows how my mind unravels when I am sleep deprived. She waits patiently for the punchline….

I tell her I am not even a famous artist and unworthy of the immense Patronage I have already been given. In fact I am merely a famous Arsehole! Then we both howl with laughter and suddenly everything is right again in my world.

I am blessed with such wonderful souls in my life who See me and Love me anyway. Even with my slowly dying bladder, my occasional suicidal ideation (now less occasional since I started Betmiga 11 days ago!) my sleepless, cantankerous,berserker surrealism and my weird dark fucked up sense of humour and of the absurd.

Courage in the face of my own mortality. Psy sighs.

Yesterday I woke up to discover that some spider bot or AI had sent me the phone number and the entire conversation in texts that I had had with Simon up until he cut contact on 12 December 2023.

It was like a nudge from the multiverse to contact him, which I did not. It’s weird that that arrived in my messages as he had not sent me a new message. It was just previous texts. So I knew it was not him doing it but some weird fucking “ghost in the machine” and also if a man wants you, he lets you know, not sends algorithms to haunt you FFS lmao.

I got so weirded out as two nights prior I finally deleted all our messenger texts and had actually deleted his number a few weeks ago and all the iPhone texts. So having this regurgitated back to me was a tad astonishing.

I read through the messages again. Saw with sanguine sadness that we had actually had a nice blossoming friendship until it got too weird (when things shifted into forming a sexual relationship so he [lol!!!] bailed on me. Me!!!! The Tanya! Who takes her blossoming, recalibrating, opening up to Life sexuality, very very seriously indeed.

So I got enraged by the whole bullshit psychotic game that I believe was played on me so no, AI can send me our old conversations a million times but I am not crawling after any man.

It’s bad enough I made a damn fool of myself falling in love with my married friend who humours me so sweetly but knows I am harmless and also a bit fucking pathetic. But never in my life (even as a young beautiful woman have I had so much romantic attention from men, all at once which is pretty ironic for a 58 year old woman with a screaming dying bladder on her very last nerve hoping against hope for true love to distract me from my careening harrowing death-spiralling.

Nu? What else is new? I have an algorithm that’s a weird arse matchmaker. An algorithm that spies on my YouTube videos so draws in madmen on dog day afternoons who weren’t serious about me. Thanks Simon. Hilarious!

Algorithms that report to other government entities that I am in decline and weakened so they will be observing my infamous Death with wry satisfaction, in the peanut gallery, knitting madly. Off with her head. But wait…Motherfuckers.

Methinks you do project my death soo imminently and too soon. So up She Rises… that wild mad Bitch in all her glory. As a defiance against invisible algorithms…I will be Dancing again tomorrow night!Everyone look busy when the Tanya arises and arrives in her full femme fatale regalia…and glory.

It will be formidable. A force to reckoned with. Life force recalibrated from the epic meshugass and gravel rash of my entire existence. As I do every weekend 🙂

Love you all. Algorithms and Angels, faeries, foes and friends, and my dearest sweetest lovers (all unattainable!) Feckless, foibled, fumbling potential lovers…Life will go on…the dance will go on and the music will be Heard and Resonated with…and the magick will happen. Out there in the other dimension somewhere…The Tanya can hear his song. Sing it Baby…but please don’t fuck it up this time. The Tanya is running out of Time, patience and forbearance. lol

1 February 2023

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1 February 2022 11:39 pm

I have had a few lovely spiritual days in spite of the searing heat. Today I got my hair done so I feel glamorous again. I also picked up a few silversmithing supplies, some wire and burnishers.

Yesterday Crystal visited and we sat in the garden and chatted. A huge butterfly flew around Crystal’s head and across into the frangipani tree. Then later it flew across the garden. It was magnificent. “Transformation” said Crystal sagely, and I nodded.

She loved the moulds that I bought her as a Chanukah gift that arrived a week ago. She is going to make jewellery with them.

Then a butcher bird sat above our heads in the trees and with a soft trilling sound, sang to us. We were both enchanted so we whistled back, trying to match its Melodies. It grew louder and more strident and kinda excited but the beautiful bird was wary of Beauregard. So after a while it flew up into the tulip trees on the opposite side of my garden.

I felt peaceful and blessed although a tad heat-exhausted. It was good to see my daughter even though she could only stay an hour.

This morning I worked on some old NZ threepences (a Penny for your thoughts?) by polishing them up as bright as the day they were minted.

Tomorrow I might solder shepherds hooks onto them for earrings. Or rather the next day, as tomorrow I am going to visit Lyn.

I visited Ailsa and her son Peter this afternoon, and we were all three as silly as wheels with the mango madness (the extreme heat) and the ramped up energies of a storm that had blown through but was building again. As I write I can still hear it rumbling in the distance.

Tonight, fuelled by my own unique brand of insanity I have texted my former lover, he who shows up like a shadow puppet every three or four months.

This is because I have been intuiting his approach since the 15 January and he did indeed walk past me on 16th January and that got me thinking about the intensely strong telepathic bond we have, even though he has never fully chosen me. Strange.

Perhaps this storm and my self actualisation and my angels might remedy that breach or let it go at last.

I will give myself credit for my tenacity, resilience and my loyal heart and recalibrate my meridians, gird my loins, gild my already kinstugied heart …and carry on bring awesome, fulsome, sweet but non-compliant with bullshit in my customary intrinsic defiance and my strange loveless life.

The butterflies and the singing butcher bird were significant messengers after all.

“Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye, four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie”

Hmmm. A pirate song. The one who keeps his eye on me even from a distance, a distance of avoidance, repudiation, of time and space.

I quoted him the Georgie Porgy rhyme but this little girl is done crying over spilt milksops and wasted timelines.

And to be fair I don’t think he receives my texts anyway so I am as usual, just pissing in the wind and only the gods, Fae, spirits and ancestors that truly love me ever hear my witticisms and my proclamations of love (however sardonic!)

Funny old life. But all good. The transformation, the transmutation, the alchemy, the causal casual catalysation of my core and the preeminent inevitable cauterisation has begun: like a caterwauling cat on a hot tin roof.

But I am fresh out of all three of my beautiful cats…so it must be the Dybbuk…..?

Have no fear, my angels are working on a mutually beneficial solution. But as usual they work in a different dimension and I lack enough patience and trust. My human need to subsume from ground zero and climb back up that Jacob’s ladder and dance in the rain on my tin roof and maybe shuck off that Dybbuk for eternity. I hear he is a very fine dancer: the lambada…but I never learned the steps.

So I will stick to my triumphant tribal Stomp and the beating of my heart shall pound out the Morse code of the Ages, in an echoing streaming scream that calls The One from his own shallow moribund oblivion and revives the Love that is eternal, true and ours!

(Rolls eyes…whatever…I will believe it when I see it…the proof is in the pudding)

Pie…anyone?

1 February 2021

If I had a man it would impact our relationship Bobo...he would be jealous of your sweet loyal faithful unconditional love. You would growl at him and bite him because you too would be jealous. I would be stuck in the middle like I was when Bella Rosa was alive and Courtenay’s friends threatened her (and me!) so I had to choose us. He did love Bella though. More than he loved me.

No man has ever loved me Bobo. And if they did albeit briefly I could not trust in it. Especially when they wrangled other girlfriends/mistresses or generic supermarket checkout chicks in my face. All my lovers did that. So it’s not me that was jealous or insecure. It really was some fucked up sexual Predator domination shit on all their parts.

I learned to not give a fuck. To just ignore or deflect and carry on my Walk through life alone. Safer that way. Saner too.

So Bobo we are not remotely interested in finding you a human daddy. Mummy gets the Heebie Jeebies just thinking about it. It’s just too gross to contemplate and launches me into full-on suicidal ideation.

I blocked my former love interest last night. He has never contacted me (apart from trawling after me at the casino and at drumming in the past). He shows up (now that he has a steady gf) on average once every three months at drumming. Like a bad case of herpes.

But I decided that it’s time I let go of any hope for a better outcome with him or any other man.

I have a fairly good idea that although he never communicates directly with me that he does stalk me via social media. A silent assassin. Maybe I am paranoid. Maybe I am completely right. But I have observed his pattern of passive aggressive behaviours over the past 7 years.

As I stated earlier “Know Thine Enemy”. Well enough to know what kind of monster I have chosen to remain in love with against all reason and logic so I can finally Detach.

The detachment has not come easy. But that is all on me. I could have possibly allowed a new lover into my life by now...but I could not bear the thought of yet another slow boiling dance of intimacy or yet another love affair predicated on “conquest by conflict”. Yuck!

So look at me with your big brown eyes, my most ardent of Loves. Your love is authentic even if you do sneeze right in my face or bare your teeth in your slow snarling growl. Grumpy boy...Beauregard. But loveable like your equally Berserker Mama T.

What is going to become of us? I could defragment our lives, deconstruct, analyse until oblivion but there is no real answer.

One day my heart might take another flying leap like a flying fish skirting the great oceanic depths I observed on the Fairstar as a child! Escaping the turgid seas and taking to the air then launching back into the ocean.

Mama T stuck like the hanged man between heaven and hell. Breathing the rarefied air of a freedom she fought so long and hard for, that it has cost her any hope of a normal loving partnership with a fellow human. Warrior Goddesses are not born but cast by ironic fate and outrageous fortunes. Soiled and despoiled, seared and sealed, then reconstructed into something strange yet oddly beautiful.

Unloved, unprotected except by her own psyche. Gentle in her persuasive pushing herself out into the world like a thorn guarding the rose: flagrant and fragrant and at times vagrant and yet never vacant as she blew life back into herself after the last death exposure and must over compensate after all the commensurate traumas of past betrayals.

It’s too hard...tooo hard... but she’s doing it anyway. In her secret garden, her sacred space, trying not to go “off her face” in some horrid little psychosis which she is holding back on the event horizon.

(Where the FUCK IS MY CBD OIL?!). Don’t really need it as I have discovered that doing this life raw and ragged without soft landings has wrought some astonishing spiritual superpowers and forced me to explore more of my creativity and yes...own my shit.

So Beauregard...Bobo..My Beau...my dearest. I am holding on for you. For Charley, for Socks...and nothing else matters. There is great beauty still in the world. I had a lovely cuddle with Darth yesterday also. He is a wonderful dog. He senses my hunger. Wise old dog.

…

…

8:02 am I woke early, around 7 am. Got up. Gave Charley and Socks their breakfast. Had a cup of tea. Felt flat so came back to bed. Lying here resting but also processing.

I had such intense dreams the last few nights. A repetitive one about conducting an exorcism at a friend’s house. The friend (who looked like Margot) was terrified. She had just moved into a new home which was seriously haunted or infested. I fought the Dementor Spirit long and hard.

I woke up at 1:58am busting to pee. So that cut that nasty dream short.

I had a weird experience after drumming yesterday. I went to have dinner at Jackpot Dining at West End.

I was eating my entrée of spring rolls when a South African family arrived. Parents with two almost adult kids. A son and daughter. I could tell they were Jewish because they were so incredibly nosey.

I became aware I was being stared at with great intensity. The husband. It was utterly weird and inappropriate. The wife turned to glare at me. I kept my face passive in my classic “resting witch face” blank non-committal pose. Wife looks back at her husband. He was still gawping at me inanely. I started to feel irritated and uncomfortable. But decided to rise above it.

I picked they were South African when Daddy started showing off by holding court and I picked up on his accent. Mummy looked a lot like my ex friend Gail. Right down to the same haircut. Oy! Triggering.

Daughter was wearing a t-shirt that said “Harley Davidson Bahamas”. How very parvenue, I thought. But the kid thought she was cool so let her be happy. Her entitled obnoxious daddy resumed staring at me. Their son also turned back to stare at me briefly. Yuck.

But he was more obsessed with convincing the Parentals to go over to the Boundary Hotel for drinks.

Meanwhile on the street, going past the Boundary Hotel some Ocker white trash woman was screaming abuse. I glanced briefly but I am not interested in any drug-fuelled fracas. I am eating my dinner!

The entire SA family actually stares with an intense myopic glare at the fracas. Then the daughter stares at me also. I almost laughed as she was directly facing me and looked like a possum with her intense little gaze. Chip off Daddies block.

Mummy resumes watching me also but sees I am both uncomfortable and unimpressed so starts laughing. I laugh back at her. Jesus. Bored rich people. No bloody couth. It was insane!

Daddy starts to realise that I am getting quite angry about the constant staring. Backs off mildly to tell his kids that he thinks he will take them to the Boundary after all so they can get Mummy smashed!!! Delivered triumphantly with a smirk. Mummy sychophantically squeals with delight. I quietly smirk. If I was married to that man I would be drunk 24/7.

Son stands up triumphantly (it was his idea to go to the pub!) he has a wet patch on the back of his trousers the size of a bread plate. How that happened no one knows. He looks like a nice kid though. Maybe nicest one in that family.

They get up and shuffle off to the pub. As they pass behind me on the street I feel a deep sense of depression or despair...possibly Mummy...however I found them so obnoxious but by now interesting that I briefly consider following them to quietly observe them more (revenge for all their possum staring). I could do with a drink too...

But no...I continue eating.

Four very steroided-up thug-type men come to sit near me. One looks mean and part maori. I observe he has a very nice expensive haircut. Lots of tattoos but his mode of speech sounds like he might be handicapped or drugged out of his skull and upon seeing me starts talking loudly and masterfully to his friends. I get the feeling they are bikies. He acts like a VP or Sergeant at arms. Also takes to staring at me.

Jesus I think. I should just get takeaway in future.

He gets up to go to the toilet and when he comes out spends a very long time washing his hands. I try not to laugh. He probably has OCD. He finally sits back down and resumes holding court. One of his friends plays rap music on his headphones loud enough for me to hear it from my table.

I take my time eating my hokkein noodles and beef strips. Shovelling delicious but big thick noodles into my mouth with chopsticks must have looked fascinating to my “stalkers”. No wonder I felt self conscious!

Between the Jewish wannabe bikie family and the actual bikie “family” I am having all sorts of trips down memory lane. Funny. But awkward.

I finally finish my meal and without waiting to digest it the merest scrap I stand up, push in my chair. As I turn to walk past the four bikies I sense a sort of frenetic shuffling. VP dude must have signalled that I was leaving so the thug nearest to me turns his head and blatantly stares right up into my face. (They made it hard for me to exit by planting a hire scooter right where I could have easily exited so I have to walk around their table and past them.)

So I stare down into his big thick face! School marmishly...like I am about to spank him! (Which by this stage is actually a tempting option but the lads were just so damn keen on getting as close to me as possible and actually were quite well behaved ...so cool it Tanya! I resist the urge to lower my glasses down my nose to poke fun at him. Know thine enemy before introducing humour!

He looks up into my face with this school boyish expression of awe closely approximating “grace”. There is a brief moment that he looks like he wants to leap up and kiss me. Sweet really. But odd!

Cool as a cucumber without looking at alpha dude or the other two at the table, I swerve stolidly around them and calmly and slowly walk out of the restaurant.

Outside and free of the epic antisocial weirdness...I walk more quickly to my car. Get in. Breathe. Safe. For now.

It was a very intense peak emotional experience. Eating dinner is not meant to be this fraught.

I realise when I get home that I am now completely socially isolated and that I am actually starting to hate being out in public.

I had a nice afternoon at drumming however.

1 February 2018

I saw my gp. She diagnosed Bursitis in my left hip which was flared up by walking uphill to the lighthouse. Also nerve pain. So she prescribed Lyrica and an anti-inflammatory Mobic ((for short term use only). Lyrica will help me sleep as it knocks you out. Great!

Let the healing commence. I am trying to be free of medications. So far so good. Hopefully this bursitis flare-up is temporary. Mama T has Living Large to do. Hahaha!

Amanda from the coffee shop introduced me to a young woman named Alana. It was weird how much we had in common. Similar background of crazy fucked up violent parents.

So we had a long lovely chat. But I was glad to get home as I was feeling a bit drained after, also my leg hurts. So you know, as they say in homeopathy, “like cures like” and lessons will be repeated until they are learned.

Time to rest and pray for a better safer saner life you know where, don’t know when or how but I must keep manifesting and hope I get there before I am too old and decrepit to enjoy it!

1 February 2015

6.08 pm major earache. I will have to give in and go to a doctor on Tuesday when I get paid or find a Bulk Billing one tomorrow.

The past few weeks have been a cascade of trauma events. The last bullshit from Lana is taking its toll. I will report her stalking to the police tomorrow. She has to be stopped.

I played her voice messages to Gail who advises me to go to the Police with it. Her behaviour last week at the casino and again this last friday night is an escalation of hostilities against me. The woman is delusional and dangerous. Unfortunately she is not acting alone either.

…

5.15 am. I have let the chooks out but Penny and me are back in bed for more psychedelic dreaming, sleeping and snuggling. She is already on her side of the bed, purring in anticipation of De Mama's snoring and sleep talking.

At least someone loves me.

…

2.51 am. Home safe after another night of dancing with Karen and Kim and Tisha. We rocked the Kasbah. I drank water and free lemonade from the drink machines all night. Staying sober means you notice way too much weird shit but I just laugh it off. Staying sober meant I could mosh out with Mission X who are awesome and play hard rock.

Makes up for me being discriminated by Irish Murphys who banned me without a good reason. I miss the bands that play there but I won't be missing the giant axe they slammed into my back, the motherfuckers. Lmao!

One day they might realise they made a terrible mistake but I'll have moved on by then.

1 February 2014

Tonight's Meshugass! Meltdowns, opportunism and general craziness (not me!). Sitting watching Ted to de-stress while we await the impending prospect of more dancing tonight. If we get there! We'll be there, if we ever get there....lalalala.

My feet still hurt. So perhaps a night off from cavorting won't be a total disappointment. Meanwhile I am intrigued by flirty back-breakers, and non-committal heart-breakers. Lmao. In the words of Alice of Wonderland "Curious and Curiouser".

This too Shall Pass!

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Some handsome young guy jumped on my back last night. Fortunately I was wearing my awesome new purple Doc Martens. So I staggered a bit under his weight (the shit!) then ran forward and turned and deposited him back on the stage without collapsing.

So much for my mojo. They either want to fuck me or fight me lmao. He left with some other woman who had been writhing all over him on the dance-floor. I just laughed. People are really insane at 3 am. Best value of the night.

I was sober by then but I am lucky he didn't injure my weak back. I am wide awake after only 4 hours sleep, buzzing. Bloody neighbours using heavy machinery woke me up. When will their renovations ever end???

My feet hurt like Hades today but hey, you get that. Nikki is staying with me for weekend. I might get up and make pancakes for breakfast. Yum!

…

Awesome night out! I actually got really drunk for once and danced wildly all night with Nikki and Sarah. I had a great time.

1 February 2011

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Miss Bella Rosa Arons is at The Dog Den being clipped and coiffed. She tried to escape when I first took her in but she'll be much cooler and happier when I collect her.

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I need to take a minute to take a photo of her with my phone camera. She is unbelievably cute. They made her look like a lion but this time they left most of her shoulders and lower chest furry so it looks like an immense mane. G-d I love my Perfect Pomeranian. She is beautiful and unflaccable in the face of so much human attention. She's a Star!

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons