Greetings From New Zealand!

With biting social, spiritual, tribal commentary.

I’ve been back in New Zealand for the first time in 25 years. Been here about a month now….

What’s absolutely bonkers is that I decided to spend the weekend editing my book and booked a small garret: a top-floor or attic room, especially a small, dismal one.

The place I’m at is the old YHA hostel that I spent a week in when I was 16, and is featured in the below story, which I implore you to read!

I’m not in the exact room that I was when at 16 I slipped out the window (Definitely wouldn’t fit out that window now anyway ) and went out on the town!… and I will not be retracing the steps of that fateful night… I did a walkabout retrace last week…with none of the ciggies, booze or bordellos that I experienced on that fateful night in 1993.

Sooooo….you want an update!

I had some good first impressions at the airport…

Here’s the Takeaway on spending my first hour in NZ.

Just wanted to get it all down fresh. The airport is very nice. Immaculate and futuristic. People are dressed VERY nicely, a kind of outdoorsy catalogue of super clean earth tones, with one dude standing out in a tie-dye shirt ( Likely an American Tourist )

Everyone I have talked to is punishingly polite and helpful… but also in terror of me starting up a conversation. They are just as addicted to their phones as the yanks… especially the boomers. Two are right now, watching the News with the volume up, in classic boomer self-centeredness.

Other than that… It’s very quiet. But that’s how it always is. No one talks over a Low whisper. I can hear an American couple 50 yards away. Their voices are cut through concrete…

The kiwis’ eyes flick over to them, and they whisper to each other about it…

One thing that summed it up was that on Air NZ on the plane on the way over, the air host would sincerely apologize anytime they had to interrupt our entertainment to tell us something of importance, instead of just cutting the feed and barking it into us at 10 times the volume of your movie.

The food is always amazing here, and because of the imploded hyperinflated dollar ( Thanks Jacinta and her pals at the WEF! ), everything is half the price of the States, and full of health.

I look like a fucking loon hippie. There are NO hippies here at the airport.

Shoes and clothes are very clean, very few beards or facial hair.

I’m the only kook with a mustache, and also the only one in pajama-like clothes. Channeling Walmart.

Physical health is radiating out of these people. Not one fatty in sight…

Due to food costs… likely…and also no GMOs or Soy or Corn Syrup in everything…

The food is edible and the water and air isn’t poison and they aren’t all on a million medications, I guess…

All the Gals have thin lips, pointy chins, lank straight hair, and look pretty much the same. Like British / Scottish / Irish Peasants - because those are our ancestors, and our gene pool is a shallow puddle. They are still quite pretty and healthy… I always find them attractive… but that’s my early Girlfriends programming…

I have a series about these Gals…

So that was my first impression.

I then went to my hometown, where many of my stories took place …

Arriving to my family land in the woods, and the calm that followed made me aware that outside of the partisan clown world hellscape that has become America is a saner, simpler world. Remember, it was a New Zealander who created Substack!

Hamish McKenzie

As I looked down on the town where many of my stories took place, I was beset with gratitude and peace.

This land has its own share of traumas. Just down on the Beaches, you can see in the picture, were some of the worst Inter-Tribal Māori massacres in History. The Victors, then in turn, were displaced from their lands in massacres by the Queen’s Men.

Many times I have encountered the spirits of these Māori, as some fled from those beaches and hid in these hills.

One night, while sleeping in the bush up here, I met the spirit of a Māori Warrior. His skull was half split. Blood in his eyes. He was still wandering about, stuck in the moment of the attack around 1750. He was lost, dying, and confused, stuck between worlds…

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My father, when bulldozing roads up here, came across skulls and skeletons, and told me he just pushed them all over the bank into the gully.

I wonder if his cancer, which started on moving up there, was caused by vengeful spirits.

I have walked this land many times and got into good communication with the spirits who reside here. I’m tolerated, but can’t stay out in the bush at night anymore.

It’s so haunted up here that every single bush sleepout I have done has been very busy with visits.

I had an American friend sleep out in the bush with me once. I did not warn him that some spooky shit would 100% likely go down. Causing people to experince insane shit… is what I do… as you can read here…

About 3 am, I wake up to him screaming. I got up and saw there was a Maori warrior in spirit form standing over him with a Jade patu. One of the main weapons that pre-European Māori used were the patu, which were made from Jade, Basalt, or whalebone. This was a hand weapon that was used to attack the upper body of an enemy by using a thrusting motion. These weapons were also used to hit the head as a mortal blow to a fallen enemy.

The Ghost Warrior looked at me witheringly, then drifted off as I approached.

My friend was screaming in pain and terror. I got him up and we headed back out of the bush to the house.

He told me that all of a sudden, he felt his head split open and thought he was dead.

I settled him down and told him that it was a Maori Spirit that attacked him…and that I was “hoping” it wouldn’t happen… but it did…

He was a wigging wreck. This often happens with one is suddenly tea bagged by the world beyond the veil…

As I have mentioned in my story …

The School trips.

I had done shit and seen shit that few twelve-year-olds have, but you know what… It was kind cool and fun. The food was good and the Maori and Aboriginal kids were really fun to play with. Sometimes the adults were gone all day so you were free to wander about in the outback and get bitten by inch-long ants.

But what I really LOVED was watching grown adults absolutely lose their shit, while doing these spirit quest things.

The high-strung yanks particularly.

I still find that to be one of my favorite pastimes.

So, as I start the two-day edit of my soon-to-be-released book, I want to leave you with this quote … by me…

“No one believes in the spirit world, till you invite them to sleep in the bush on top of a Maori massacre site”.

Mā te wā
See you later, more than likely soon