28 January

1.34pm

“Could I do it?

Could I just give up? Right now? Say goodbye to life?”

29 January

10.40am

“Life is a fragile thing. We are only passing through this life on earth and we all have to face the inevitable. Unfortunately some of us go early.” – Allan Bond

A statement by the Australian tycoon who funded the 1983 Americas Cup in Perth. I read it just now and went back to what I wrote yesterday and how I feel today and realized I was in a definite poor me phase and that even if I die today I have indeed, enjoyed A Fortunate Life! Life is indeed a process, somedays I would be happy to leave, others, I am more than happy to stay :)

So what to do to motivate myself to make the best I can with the time I have? Motivation is the key and the one element behind all great achievements. Motivation!

Ah, make a list. I have made lists for years and they have worked, so now I need to dedicate a book, not to journalling because I do that on my computer, a book that is basically a list, day by day, of what I wish to do, what I need to do and a rolling commentary of how they are going.

So there it is, I have started a new exercise book and I have a list of 14 things, events, etc, that I need to work on, a list of 14. Not necessarily in the right order as I need to take Health from No. 14 and make it No. 1 :) a work in progress. A process, that is my life today. It’s the best I can do, Amen!

First things First :)

28 January

1.34pm

“Could I do it?

Could I just give up? Right now? Say goodbye to life?”

29 January

10.40am

“Life is a fragile thing. We are only passing through this life on earth and we all have to face the inevitable. Unfortunately some of us go early.” – Allan Bond

A statement by the Australian tycoon who funded the 1983 Americas Cup in Perth. I read it just now and went back to what I wrote yesterday and how I feel today and realized I was in a definite poor me phase and that even if I die today I have indeed, enjoyed A Fortunate Life! Life is indeed a process, somedays I would be happy to leave, others, I am more than happy to stay :)

So what to do to motivate myself to make the best I can with the time I have? Ah, make a list. I have made lists for years and they have worked, so now I need to dedicate a book, not to journalling because I do that on my computer, a book that is basically a list, day by day, of what I wish to do, what I need to do and a rolling commentary of how they are going.

So there it is, I have started a new exercise book and I have a list of 13 things, events, etc, that I need to work on, a list of 14. Not necessarily in the right order as I need to take health from No. 14 and make it No. 1 :) a work in progress. A process, that is my life today. It’s the best I can do, Amen!

Dickie!

28 January

1.34pm

Could I do it?

Could I just give up? Right now? Say goodbye to life?

It feels that way today, challenging like never before. It reminds me of the wind up character in the movie Hugo. It’s like someone, who? has taken my inner most workings and I am left flapping like a fish out of water, struggling to breath, muscles as weak as, well very weak. A journey today had to be cut short after we set off, that’s a first, back home, into bed and trying make myself comfortable. Not at all easy. I lay, covered by a duvet in the midst of summer, a clear blue sky and sun shining. I was freezing. My legs cold and I lay in all sorts of position, sitting, reading, tried a bit of writing. Nothing. Lying with my mind struggling to keep an even keel, looking out the window, gazing off.

I got up finally and tried to work a little. I sat in the sun with The Sea of Cortez lying unopened. I worked on the computer wasting an hour on Facebook and stuff. I managed to communicate with PatientsLikeUs, updated my profile and enjoyed a smile. I was going to say, laugh, not today, I can smile, a laugh is a bit beyond me. Muy lovely Emily is over on the other side of the island, muy lover needs space and fellowship, I can only imagine how this is affecting her. Tough, bloody tough. It saddens me. We were meant to grow old together and enjoy our life of gardening, family, friends and working at our creative projects. Now? Not for one moment am I suggesting this won’t be but today it feels the absolute opposite to that dream. One day at a time, life lived in the absolute moment.

Be gentle dickie I hear friends call to me. One soft slow step at a time. Don’t stress, exert, overdo. Mindfulness.

The Pogues, love their raunchy music and rollicking style. Background music as I sit and type whatever comes to me, don’t think dick, just do dick. Maybe that is my new mantra. Dickster :)

Dick is not an abbreviation I have allowed too many people to call me, just a handful of very close friends, term of endearment, intimacy that works :) nearly got a laugh that time. My glasses perch precariously on my nose as I write. I have ordered new lenses, they should arrive this coming week but for now I am limited to slip sliding frames that perch on my nose and I continue to push them back so I can actually see what the hell it is I am saying. Emily is on her way back from the beach. We were meant to have dinner with friends in Wellington tonight, lunch and dinner tomorrow with friends. Whew! Too much or am I being anti social, a bit of both methinks. Bugger me, this is challenging but here I sit doing what I love, tapping at keys. Sense? Non Sense? Who knows, I sure don’t. Doesn’t matter. Beats the hell out of sitting brooding I guess.

Off to my right sits the imagery of great photographers of today and years gone by, Dorothea Lange, Vivian Maier, Doisneau, William Eggleston, Walker Evans, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Joseph Sudek, Atget, Avedon et al. Books upon books upon books. A huge impact on my life has Photography. As a teenager I fiddled and talked, in my twenties I fiddled with some professionals but mostly the influence of photographers on my life came through my film editing where photographers became moving image makers, directors, some of a very high calibre. Their eye, their style, their images certainly had a huge influence and I loved the experience. Does my work today reflect that influence? No idea to be honest. I simply like to capture what I see, wherever it may be. I am no technician, certainly not a professional. I love cameras, especially the elegant simplicity as Leica portrays. I own 3 Leica’s, including the latest greatest digital version. And lenses :) I have splurged and eaten my savings on Leica glass. Glorious. Do my images justify such an outpouring of resources? I have no idea!

My money would have gone on restaurants and clothes if it weren’t for my gear. Healthy choice.

Leaning back in my seat I feel my body quivering with muscle twitching and my glasses sliding to the tip of my nose. Now that has to be a humorous image for one who has sat in editing seats all over the world, all times of day, without a though that, one day, it would all come to a screaming halt. And yet! And yet, as I write that I am reminded that all my writing heroes died in there early sixties and hear I am approaching my seventies :) I could have died, and many do, at any moment along the way. Gratitude old son, gratitude. I am doing fine. Fuck my fingers, I will tape them together and keep on typing when they bend and stiffen as they do at times. Painful.

I just now found an email from my dear friend Rosemary who passed away last year with cancer. She said “ Enjoy Richard. . . I miss you, however, I can hear you through your emails as though you were sitting in a meeting across from me.” Rosemary sent me the 3^rd Step prayer and the 7^th Step Prayer from AA and Al-Anon. God bless you Rosemary, I am not far away. Amen XO

25 January

11.53am

A new pair of specs.

Drove to Masterton yesterday, a big step, back in the car and driving. Had an appointment with Budget Specs or something like that. Hoped to come away with a new set of lenses for my glasses and sat through a bunch of tests and over 30 minutes or close on an hour and the bill was 30 bucks, amazing. However :) the bill for the whole session, including lenses for two sets of glasses, using my own frames was nearly 700 bucks. Ouchie Wawa! I had hoped to get new frames but the selection sucked and so stuck with my own frames. Then off to Aratoi the local Wairarapa Centre for the Arts and History. I had entered a photograph, hoping it to be included in the Wai Art Review, it wasn’t :) but I needed to go back and take my time and look more closely at the art that was included, some very talented artists live and work in the Wairarapa. My framed image ended up in the Salone de Refuse in Carterton and so down I went to pay my respects and to make sure they hung my contribution so it wasn’t simply a reflection of light. At both places I spent time with friends chatting away and enjoying being able to get out and about. My mobility is an issue but I can drive and it was great to get on the highway. After the galleries I explored a couple of back country roads, gravelly and dusty, just the way I like it. I have lived in large cities, from Sydney to New York to Los Angeles to Wellington, for most of my life and getting out into the country, the back blocks, the boonies, has been a priority and have done so over the years, a great deal of exploring.

Peaceful and expansive, that is what I get.

Then, this morning, lying in bed, reading, I finished The Great Gatsby. Food for thought. Along with Steinbeck and Hemingway and Grey, a great read and a great piece of writing . . . or is it?

I read it over 3 sittings. I feel I need to read it again, almost immediately. It appeared that I blinked a couple of times and missed an important part of the plot. I truly loved the story and the way it unfolded as the characters unravelled but would I call it GREAT! A great novel?

I really need to make a considered judgement. I love reading. I guess for great writing Steinbeck sits at the top of my list. Challenging. Rich. Satisfying. Writing I will revisit and have. So where does Gatsby fit in my reading lexicon? As I said I blinked a couple of times. I enjoyed experiences somewhat similar out on Long Island Sound and the Hampton’s and in New York. Not totally but somewhat. Those experiences showed me a shallowness in those who would project an educated, wealthy mind set but in reality, not very intelligent. But then again, in my own little world, growing up in New Zealand I could say the same thing. Old money. High education. School titles. What does it all mean? My own parents seemed to aspire to something beyond their abilities and me as a kid growing up in that tripped over and over. Totally confused I blanked big hunks of my younger years. Especially when the bailiffs came in and took the lot, reducing us to a much lower standard of living. For me it felt very demeaning and I experienced great waves of shame. I can only guess it effected each sibling in a way only they can explain. As for myself, well I had no problem earning money and the flip side was, I had no problem spending money. Today it’s vastly different. To earn is a challenge that appears beyond me today. My intellect appears more available than ever and I am in more gratitude than I ever was. I have made millions and spent millions. Seriously. What more can I say. What happened to the shared knowledge, the wisdom that is meant to be passed on from parent to child? Maybe, like in Gatsby, I blinked. That does not mean that I have not enjoyed every single moment. In fact I feel quite privileged to have lived the life and experiences I have. Gratitude comes to mind. Enormous gratitude for the experiences, both good and bad. It has me smile to think of the paradox. I should be so lucky. And, along the way my friends have stuck it out as I have stuck it out, no matter what. Fortune, misfortune, there is no difference. It’s all life. Shared experience I like to believe. I smile. All my favorite writers died younger than I am today, yep, all of them. Same with artists. Same with many of my friends. So what’s this attachment we have to growing old, living to 100? That is what I wished as a kid. 100 not out, like a cricket score. Today I know I have done enough, I also know I have more I would like to do. Explore my writing, finish my documentaries, sell some photographs. Grow old with muy lovely lovr, Emily. That was my dream. Travel, experience life together. Enjoy each other, encourage each other, inspire and motivate each other as we do today and so I am going to stop right there and state unequivocally, that we are living the dream, and for today that is enough. Living life in the moment, one day at a time. Period!

Fly Buy’s?

17 january

5.14pm

I’m sitting on the toilet see, and as I sit I tend to meditate, it’s quiet in the loo and I like to chill out. So, there I am, pants down round my ankles, one of the times when there is not much difference between men and women I guess. Well? So there I sit, and as I sit my eyes scour the floor, is it clean, did I, should I vacuum? Nope it’s clean but there is one thing, an ant or a spider, bit small, can’t make up my mind as to which. If it’s a spider could it be one of those nasty Australians, a white tail? Nope it’s an ant. It has marched from the floor to the floor mat and as it does I ponder the meaning of life. Hang on, now I remember, it was a fly, ah, that makes sense, I was wondering where this story was going to go with an ant or a spider but a fly, yes, that makes sense. So this fly hops on the rug and is walking around as fly’s do and I am taken to pondering the meaning of life. A small fly equals a small life? Usually I wave them away and now that it’s summer I am more aggressive at wiping them or waving them away. They are bloody annoying as I sit in my comfortable reading chair with it’s native american blanket and two medium cushions, reading is important, a very important part of my life, always has been, always will be and the chair I curl up in equally so. So when a fly begins to walk up my bare leg it tickles and tickling is not a good part of reading, especially when I am into Steinbeck or heavy stuff by James Hillman. That is not a good mix, Hillman and the Fly!

And then of course once I wave it away it decides a game of tennis would be fun and so he alights on my cheek, that takes a different stroke than when he lands on my neck or decides to stroll up the Boulevard Forearm! I never flatten them, I don’t sit with a fly swat but what I do try, is to catch them with my open hand. And if I manage, which I never do, to catch one what then? Death by crushing, give it to the cat, the dog? But I never do catch one. I have swatted them on the kitchen table though, splat and there, I got two of the little buggers who were actually fornicating in front of me.

But sitting on the toilet contemplating life I reconsider my aggressive violent attitude toward flies. I suddenly apply James Hillman’s philosophy that everything from the universe to me to bugs, we all have a soul and that soul has an equality such as trees, rivers and sheep being readied for the slaughter house and who am I to pass judgement and a death penalty! Not I said the fly.

Not me either. Life is for living as one of those buzzers has come into my studio, uninvited, to see what I am writing and would you believe it, the little blighter or one of his cousins has decided to climb my leg, my calf. Fuck! It tickles but now that I am enlightened by my own ‘apparent’ mortality I cannot take action to kill the fly.

Catholic guilt is not part of my make up, I was raised C of E and that is the pale English wimpy version of the Italian canon. Mind you I am sure that jesus on the cross, yes we all agree, he was crucified, jesus would have been visited by flies and that must have been excrutiatingly ticklish. Did he die of mirth or of death? Nails driven through one’s hands and feet is not conducive to longevity and jesus was in his thirties when his life was extinguished. And so the fly on the wall, the fly by, the flying creatures of planet earth have as much right, if not rights, to be here. They sing. That’s their buzz you hear.

Now when I leave the house to go somewhere, anywhere and I close the doors and windows, because we have these gangs of kids in our town who know no boundaries as neither do their mothers, that’s the reason the father beat it, got tired of beating her in retaliation for her potty mouth carping. But when I secure my property the flies are locked in and I never realized that flies really are freedom lovers of the strangest kind. So on return I find that they have committed mass suicide, something those kids would never think of. Damn! So masses of flies on the table, the window sill and the floor. The Cat, the Dog, neither of them eat the flies when they are dead, even though when alive my Amigo and my  Kiri love to snap at the flies and occasionally get one followed by a crunching sound that is a real turn off. Fancy chewing a fly! Oh no! Mind you, I have yawned with bad timing and have come close to choking with the fly stuck down my throat! Yuck!

And then, in some years, in some areas of this country side there are those who live elsewhere, but like the concept of “our cottage in the country don’t you know” and lock their second residence for months on end only to return in the off chance of a quiet weekend to find the flies have swarmed! AAARRRGGGHHHH! I have heard the call go out late at night as they turn up in their BMW’s, case of wine and latest girlfriend, as opposed to wife, in tow for a dirty weekend to be confronted by a ceiling layered and I truly mean layered with a swarm of flies. I am sure you have seen a swarm of bees, hanging in a romantically rounded cluster from the branches. Not flies, nothing romantic. And the blood. I need to finish this expose on life and soul, I am becoming or coming to the gross out part where the clean up takes place before the love making, the stripping away of fine fabric, the giggling from kitchen to lounge and a final plunge on to the bed. Flies are all over the ceiling. And to clean it they have to be gotten down off the ceiling. No neat vacuum cleaning job this. This is a broom and buckets and even spades to scoop them and then toss them outside for the night creatures to feast on. How do I know this. Well, when I met muy lovely lover, when we first began hanging out at her house just outside town, her one and ‘only’ house, when we began hanging out, the local South Featherston flies decided to test us but in a kind of, sort of, manageable manner and only in the bathroom, excepting that this was a very old kind of historic type of house and the ceilings were very, very high.

Almost, totally actually, impossible to reach with a broom so a ladder and vac were called in and we did what we could. Messy. I never knew flies could be so bloody and a mass of flies is simply a mess of blood.

And so sitting on my Loo none of this came to me as I studied the Soul of the Fly! It wasn’t until now it all came back and memories became up front and clear as a bell. It totally, along with my shrinking bank balance, put me off buying a second country estate and so muy lovely and me, well we simply live together in our small cottage in town with the lovely garden and the compost pile and the grass clippings that flies just love. Yep, another piece of fly mythology that can keep till when I next visit the loo :) gotta fly!

God was a Football Fanatic!

Godfrey Pye, oh yes! Number One Manchester United football fan.

We shared some great experiences together in Sydney, London and finally, LA. did Godfrey and me.

I possibly only ever got one up on him though and it was a goodie. Christmas 1984, newly divorced and on my way around the World, first to LA then San Fran, New York and . . . London, which is where my friend God invited me out to the estate, “Englebert lives down the road”, Lucy and Daniel perched on my knees as we caught up on bragging rights before God showed me what an Audi Quattro could do on winter’s ice. To pay God back I phoned him a couple of days later . . .

“Would you like to go to a football match” – is the Pope a Catholic? An Aussie friend of mine had lent me a couple of tickets to a football match, I didn’t tell God that these were Director’s passes.

Manchester United were playing Chelsea.

He picked me up and we drove to Stamford Bridge.

“Park round the back” I said, flashing a parking pass at the attendant .

“What” he said

“‘Round the back” I replied

“Lets take the elevator” I said

“Where the hell are we going this is a private lift” he stated.

We entered the Chelsea FC Board of Directors private lounge.

Took our seats and God pokes me pointing to an old dude sitting in front of us “Bobbie Charlton!” God is smiling.

“How the hell did you get these seats?”

“Yeah” I shrugged. A full stadium of screaming fans and Chelsea go 1 up, the game is halted, Police march onto the pitch and up into the stands, separating the fans. God is depressed, Manchester scores and Godfrey is up, scores again, God is pumping the air with his fist and then again, with minutes to go, the winning goal! Godfrey is over the moon, standing, yelling, forgetting where we are, who’s box we are in, nothing is going to stop Godfrey from enjoying that moment. He didn’t stop smiling as we drove between mounted police, police dogs with handlers, past securely boarded shop fronts and thousands of red and blue clad fans.

Godfrey loved Football as played by United, their Number One Fan!

Rest In Peace Godfrey, you are much loved.

Richard Clark, Film Editor

New Zealand.

Yesterday was Friday 13th :)

14^th January

11.00am

 

Death and dying, life and living . . . As the wind howls down off the Tararua ranges and whip our trees to a frenzy I am reminded that I cannot control or change anything except my attitude. I recently read, maybe it was Steinbeck, that to think of death each day is healthy. And as I sit here and tap away I guess he has a point as friends die, as I die, as we all die, sometime. What I consider is how my creative energy appears more accessible today.

Is this partly the result of considering death or as my first wife wrote “the end of the twig”. Maybe it is. Whatever it is I find it freeing to be faced with my own mortality, to be able to let go of wondering if I have enough, have done enough, etc., etc., etc. Of course I have enough! I have enough food, clothes, ideas, love, friends, what more could I desire to make me happier than I am right at this very moment . . . Absolutely nothing. Okay, maybe a bathtub! Today is a real howler, the trees in our garden are certainly getting an aerobic workout, bending every which way or is  witch way :) My cat, Amigo sleeps as though it were a quiet and gentle breeze. So here I am aren’t I, doing what I love, not thinking, allowing my fingers to dance over the keyboard and come up with whatever nonsense pleases them :)

But seriously, yeah right, seriously, death and dying. Is there life after? Are there indeed pearly gates with a dude with a beard that is white, grey or just plain dirty? I have no idea. My mother died some 10 years ago and I am left with her spirit I guess. My father, close on 25 years ago and just memories. Not a lot of spirit around my dad I guess, or at least not that he allowed me to share. Memories but no spirit it seems. I come to the end of my life, is it like the end of my day, I go to bed, yawn, sleep and dream? The great freedom comes from not being dictated to, not worrying about what others think, simply doing what I can do and enjoying every single moment. My iPhone battery dies, the phone goes to sleep and doesn’t wake up again. Is that who we are iHumans? iMan? iRonic man :)

Death and Dying has been written about so often by so many, I have spent years looking for answers and all I have to show for it are a set of experiences, like a set of books, some damn fine ones but they are not necessarily the answers to my questions, they are my life revealed to me, it’s that simple and that bloody complex. Just now I picked up a journal from 2007, in it I wrote about my health, about cramps and such, wow! So far back. May 2007!

Five years I have been on this road of nerves, letting go, giving up. It amazes me to think that if that be the case I have lasted so long. Motor Neuron Disease is usually given 2 years and then, plunk! Done, Dead, Gone! Snap of a twig! But here I am, still experiencing cramp at times as my muscles lock up when I stretch or yawn or simply lie in bed.  The cramp when I yawn is a scary one mind you, the muscles of my neck lock up and I feel as though I will not be able to breath, swallow or answer back, bugger!

What am I trying to say here ?

I have no idea, death and dying have been with us from the beginning and will be here to the end of everything. Trees die, cats and dogs die, lovers die, brothers, companies, ideas and oceans die. It is part and parcel of life. Fatalism, possibly but nothing wrong with that. Fate, karma, whatever, we arrive, we experience and we leave. So I enjoy the journey. Mind my own business. Take each moment as it appears, practicing mindfullness, blah, blah, blah. It’s my life to live as I choose and I have done so to the very best of my ability to do so, not my ability as others may dictate.

It comes down to my ability to live. Your ability to live. Our collective ability I guess! I feel sad for those young children in our community that don’t have that information as their parents weren’t provided with the full Manual of a Full and Healthy Life. I did not say happy, I said full and healthy and I don’t just stop at physical health, that is just the shell, it’s the heart and mind and intuitive self that they were not shown by their parents and theirs and theirs and theirs. It often seems that the leaders of the tribe, community, whanau, family whatever missed the boat as well. Ah well, one dies, one is born to die and be reborn? Who knows, I sure as hell don’t :) amen.

Stormy Waters?

12 Jan

3.15pm

Friends are the greatest gift I have, friends care for me, even when I cannot care for myself. I love my friends, unconditionally.

Friends, lovers, wives, employees, assistants, managers, well maybe one manager, have been a great investment of time and love. In the past couple of days I have received good emails and sad emails, old friends passing and young friends sharing. I am touched. Life is such a wicked and blessed mystery and miracle all wrapped up in the same old ball of twine. I prefer twine to string as twine is more out there :) has more loose edges, whereas string is so, so . . . bloody tidy. I don’t wish for a tidy life, I have been blessed with chaotic creative collaborations. A lover of mine, I was going to say old lover but this lover is younger and goes back a long way, wrote to me today and wrote some truths, her truths, I blush as they underscore that I have lived my life well and the truth be known, my truth this time, is that I have, lived my life well that is.

I was driving back home from Wellington a couple of weeks, days, months ago and as I drove noticed an ocean going sailing yacht moored off the coast toward Petone, it was a good size, toward 50’ I guess, a sloop. One of the classic older styles, unlike the new French plastic bath tubs of today, in good condition and as I saw that, floating at anchor, my mind did a gratitude aka reality check.

Gratitude that I have no regrets for my life today, that I have enjoyed some truly great experiences in many of the areas that I have passion. My daimon has guided me well :)

First there was my running. As kids all 4 of us ‘Clark Boys’ ran cross country. I also ran track. Once or twice against Peter Snell and Murray Halberg. I ran the nationals a couple of time, once came second last and once DNF :) I also sailed a little bit as a teenager, at my brothers pleasure, or not. But my sailing took it’s own journey once I left New Zealand far behind. I nearly made it on an international yacht sailing around the world out of Perth but missed out by a day, no emails or texting in the 60’s :) Who knows where that journey would have taken me?

My daimon, guardian angel, my genius, whatever, had me in it’s arms and gently guided me as I hitch hiked and worked my way around the Australian coastline and through the Alice back to Sydney and a life of film editing :) Whew! Thank go*d!

So it was Sydney where I became the owner of a few boats over time, a 16’ Hobiecat, a 29’ Compass sloop and a 1929 Griffin 22’. And a few Avon inflatables. So much fun, soooo much money. I was always having work done, restoring, upgrading . . .

The Hobie was a gift from Nat Young as I supplied him with editing facilites for his film, Fall Line with the great Taj Mahal providing music. We, it was not a true single hander, too much strength needed and I am such a little chap :) anyhow we launched it next to the bridge in Middle Harbor and would scream, literally, down the harbor to the heads, what a handful and often, being young and full of . . . We would often somersault as the bows dug in we were catapulted forward or at other times I would be hooked to the trapeze, walk along the hull to the bow and as we were rocketing forward I would jump outward to fly around the the stern and land on the transom. Such things we do :) because we can. Beats bungy jumping!

I also sailed a 55’ Mini Maxi, Genghis Kahn, from Molooloobah to Sydney, managing to wrap the spinnaker around the head stay but kept the yacht on track as we surfed the swells off Port Stephens. Glorious memories as I studied for and gained my Yacht Masters Certificate. Others seemed to trust me at the tiller and so, as they rolled out of the Middle Harbour Yacht Club late at night and hand me a bread roll and the tiller, I would sail up the coast to Pittwater, while they fell asleep, much fun.

And then, I closed my company, moved to the Big Apple, New York where my dear friend, Bill Hawkey owned a 48’ WilliWaw, a racing sloop with coffee grinder winches. We sailed that beauty down from Booth Bay Harbor to New York and also from Block Island, on Long Island Sound, to Ossining on the Hudson River where Bill and his family lived and made me feel at home. That was a great trip down the sound as a storm came from both sides and we tried to find shelter but couldn’t and so continued south. I also raced during the week out of the Manhattan Sailing Club on J24’s and then out of the blue blood, upper crust landing known as Larchmont, where they were not impressed with us dudes in our miss matched gear coming back from racing an IOD in the fog on the Sound. They took our money but not our friendship :) Then, I moved from New York to Venice Beach California, home of surfer dudes and the skateboard revolution, Marina del Rey and a place I came to adore and call home for 16 years. But first made a quick trip to Jamaica mon! There I sailed a Sunfish and soared high on a parasail.

Negril. A picturesque but drug addled paradise. I even had my hair beaded, those were the days my friends :)

North of Los Angeles sits Ventura County and home to the Navy and their Fighter Wing. It was also home to Port Hueneme. And it was there I found one of the true loves of my life. A WestSail 32’. A classic Colin Archer design from the 19^th century, based on a double ended fishing boat from Norway. It became a true Blue Water Classic. I pine for it some times. I sailed it all around the Channel Island off the California Coast and had it up graded with the latest greatest sails and rigging and, and, and . . . $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ with the idea in mind of sailing it to New Zealand. One weekend I sailed out of ventura in an almost pea soup fog, sailing out a mile and turning left to sail due east. No GPS, simply a good compass, paying attention and fingers crossed. I even climbed over the stern and into my Avon inflatable so I could take photos of the yacht as we sailed into a wall of no visibility. I have the shots, they need to be scanned ito my computer and posted . . . One day!

My wife got ill on one trip and I foolishly decided it was the boat or the marriage, the marriage won, in the short term :) maybe my guardian angel had other things in store for me. I named the yacht Carpe Diem, I did and have I guess. It turned heads it did. I hand varnished with the skills of my master painter father. A true honey of a sailing craft. Sister ship to the only boat to survive The Perfect Storm on the Eastern Seaboard, a great book followed by a truly dreadful movie with George Clooney, yetch!

And then, on trips back to New Zealand, I sailed a couple of times with my brother in law Tony, on his home and hand built jewel, a true deep water, full length keel classic. A 32 footer he continues to upgrade and maintain 60 years after he built it.

I have so much gratitude to have sailed where I have sailed and the yachts I have owned aka invested in :)

. . . and that, my friends, is simply one thread of my life that I am truly grateful for today.

Boats and the Ocean taught me much about life, how to be responsible for myself first, how to take care of the details of life and how to be truly and rigorously honest. You can’t fuck with nature, especially the ocean!

Would that all our children learned to sail! Oh well, don’t preach Dickie :)

Mea Culpa :)

10 Jan

4.20pm

Dear God, why? I ask why I am so upset. I feel sad and broken and lacking in energy to think or act, that is the pits, music plays, too loud maybe for the mood I find myself in. Bugger.

I can’t do what I would like to do, I hurt. I can’t go driving, my car won’t start and I should not consider driving. And now I am in a spat with muy lovely Emily. Mis-communication? I guess. But it really pisses me off on top of all the emotional challenges I am experiencing. Fuck!

 

11 Jan

10.52am

Another day, a different day, a new day, as the sun rises, so do i. Breakfast, supplements, washing done, editing, mowed some lawn,  hung out washing, coffee and now relaxing waiting for muy Emily to return home with a guest. Music playing over my shoulder on my iPod, “there’s a man going round taking names” I love it, as I should, I smile while I write and a fly crawls over my neck and the smell of burning rubber has me looking at all our equipment to check all is okay . . .

 

8.36pm

Same day and I am ratty, rat, tat, bloody tatty! Why? Because I am pissed at muy lovely lover, no details needed, but I don’t like this sense of feeling like shit. It’s not healthy for one thing and for another it is not something I wish to continue but am in a quandary as to how I can simply say “I am sorry” especially when I have not done anything that requires an apology, apart from being tatty! So there it is, I ask myself as to how important is it, I silently murmur the serenity prayer over and over, I so want to burst out laughing at my pernicketyness, great word :) did I mash the spelling? Possibly! Okay Richard, stop writing, go into the house, take hold of muy Emily and give her a big hug and if you feel the need to say ‘sorry” then bloody well say it dude! Okay . . . Off I go, hi ho, hi ho, off to muy lover I go . . . .

 

9.14pm

And I am a man :) a hug, a smile, an apology even, life goes on and I realize, once more that muy lover truly loves and accepts me exactly as I am, warts and all :) wow!

Raising Funds, Raising Awareness . . .

4.01

7.00pm

I have wanted to say this all day . . . “today I feel as though I am dying”

And, with my mnd condition I guess I am but today I feel particularly, helpless. Right that’s the word I need, helpless. Hopeless? No. Helpless? Yes.

Was it a Joni Mitchell song, “helpless, helpless, helpless” Google it dickie and I will . . . Nope it was Neal Young, way back when.

Yesterday was particularly exhausting for three reasons, the first two I will share. I had offered last year to interview a South African who planned to raise funds for his brothers illness by riding his motor bike, from the very bottom of the South Island of New Zealand to the very top of the North island, a long trip by any standards. The trip is to be done over the Waitangi weekend in February, a month away. So he and a friend dropped in yesterday and I set up the camera and filmed for close on an hour. Tiring, very, very tiring seeing as I was standing all that time and also moving the tri-pod and camera for a more interesting coverage.

The second part was when I finished the filming and we sat and chatted for a couple of hours, amazing stories being bandied around, wishing I had the camera running :) anyhow I loved just listening, even though it did tax my energy enormously. Muy lovely emily participated and I found that she is a great on camera interviewer. Imagine what we could be doing if we had met earlier and teamed up with the camera. Awesome. Later that night I told her quite candidly that I wished I had met her years before, and yet :) And yet, it would not be the same, it may not have worked, I may not, she may not have been available or ready. Simple really.

And so this morning I could have quite easily have slept through the day. But no, we had arranged to haul a trailer of sand to Island Bay so as to build a sand pit for our grandchildren. I was beat. I was non social. I was out of it. And now here, evening is upon us, getting this story out of my system, what better way to do it, I love writing. I love not thinking. Which is sort of what I wanted today, someone else to make the decisions make the choices. I would have simply gone along with the ride, or at least I am sure I would have :)

The feeling that I have nothing in me today, that I am wiped of all energy and that it is okay to acknowledge and surrender to the process of powerlessness. Fuck! It’s hard at times. I know this will pass, an early night, a good nights sleep, and tomorrow, tomorrow I will be back to basics. Not great but better than today I hope.

I weighed myself this morning as I stepped out of the shower, I have shed weight in a few months. Closing in on 10K after topping 11k. A bit of a shock but one I have wanted to achieve for years, after all, at 5’ 7” I am short, okay, average height and 11+ was too much. I simply didn’t feel spritely.

Half an hour later and it’s time for time out and maybe force myself to eat, ingest my supplements, watch a movie, continue reading Steve Jobs and then dreams as I sleep. Dream I do. Wicked are my dreams, real involving stories. I have no idea as to what they mean. And that is just fine :) ‘night!

5 Jan

11.20am

Crystal clear blue sky, gentle breeze and here I sit in my studio, it’s on the road to simplicity and is looking much better with all the excess going to storage and then to be sold on or given away. Coffee, toast, supplements. Muy lovely lover has gone hiking and I get to digitize the footage I shot earlier in the week. It’s a start :)

12.40pm

Bloody hell, I have been working with apple’s Final Cut Pro editing system since if first came out around 1999 and here I am close to 12 years later still trying to set up my system to log and capture footage to my hard drive. Picky, picky, picky :) I didn’t have the tape deck and the computer talking the same language but, now it is and I am on the road so to speak. A film for a friend who’s brother in South Africa has MND, he is raising funds for both his brother and MND New Zealand which is where I cam in an offered my services. And now digitizing and then to edit and then to put it up on the Internet. I love making film. I love shooting, in fact these days I have more fun shooting than I do editing. Anyhow :) the interview is done and now I am proceeding. Just got to keep an eye on the digitizing to make sure no errors occur.

I guess I will post this and wait for the tape to finish inputting and then begin the edit process, cheers, R.