Pursuits of Happiness - Six Degrees of Iconic.

2007-10-02T10:44:00.001+13:00

For a time...

2007-05-21T12:53:00.000+12:00

I didn't leave London knowingly in pursuit of happiness; I was chugging along quite nicely thank you, with the aid of cigarettes, coffee and alcohol. (When you've got stimulants, who needs happiness huh?!) However, I did leave the UK in the hope of finding some peace of sorts, which I suppose is one component of that ethereal smiling cloud we all long for. I wanted mountains, water, steppes - just about any unpeopled and open spaces would do.

And I certainly didn't come to Paihia in pursuit of happiness. I only came to this little town to get the hell out of Auckland. The Bay of Islands just happened to be the first stop on my bus route that seemed to offer the 'nothingness' I required.

So I came here for three days: time enough to make it to New Zealand's most northerly point - Cape Reinga - at the end of a 64-mile strip of sand. That was over two weeks ago. By now I should be in Wellington, continuing the infernal chase.

But I'm not. I'm here, sitting on the aft deck of a houseboat, moored about 100m off Paihia beach, stuffed in a sleeping bag, writing by candlelight and drinking a beer. I am quite content not to be pursuing anything, for a time at least. From here I can watch the stars and the sun swap roles, listen to the birds squabble and feel the rolling motion of the water. These are the constant rhythms of the world, far more reliable than an abstract idea of happiness.

I wouldn't be the first to have succumbed to the spell of the Bay's rhythms. Most people I meet have overstayed; they came for two days, two weeks. Then, two years on they're wondering what happened. May be time slows down here - afterall the days are governed by the sun and the ocean, not the clock from 9 to 5. Perhaps the minutes swell and stretch just enough for you to forget that you should be chasing your tail to fulfil a dream you can't quite put your finger on. If that's the pursuit, I think I'll just take the spot of happiness that's nestled here on my aft deck.

For a time at least.

Giving monkeys typewriters.

2007-05-19T16:41:00.000+12:00

This is the first entry on 'Pursuits ...', trying to set the tone for the blog is a tricky business. Do I start with a left field piece of writing about the interesting/mundane event that may or may not have happened, or do I just introduce the blog in an honest way, in that it's an experiment that I am hoping will produce great things.

'Pursuits...' is about quirkiness, individuality and eclecticism. A work of short stories constantly evolving as if Chuck Palahniuk was writing the 'Neverending Story'. These are not voices of the people so much as people with voices, Infinity producing interesting work. Monkeys with Typewriters writing for your enjoyment between bouts of faeces throwing.

Democracy in action. Zero censorship. neither on the side of the true nor on the side of the false. Letting what will be be and the chips fall when and where they may.

The only absolute of 'Pursuits...' is that it's gonna be a glorious mixed bag, some nihilistic, some utopian and a splash of the mundane. All served up in bitesized nuggets of reconstituted mutterings, liquefied poured out and made to taste like chicken.

As Always, enjoy.