[Weapon canted to the left]
– Working parts cocked fully to the rear and back to the front
– CLAP the feed tray cover open
– SWEEP LEFT removing rounds from the tray
– SWEEP RIGHT to ensure no rounds or debris are still in the tray
– SLAM the feed tray cover shut, weapon in the shoulder
[Trigger squeezed, no shot should be fired]
[Weapon canted to the right]
– CLAP the feed tray cover open
– REPLACE the ammunition belt into the feed tray, inline with the feed claws
– SLAM the feed tray cover shut
– Weapon in the shoulder, working parts actioned fully rear to front
– GPS — Tap the GAS plug to ensure its still seated, close the ejection PORT cover, ensure your SIGHTS are still at the correct zero
[Weapon away from the shoulder, await FCO]
The 7.62mm Light Support Weapon (equivalent to the American M240B in application and Mk. 48 in appearance — oddly enough, the LSW weighs more than the MAG58/M240 when loaded) will always be my favourite weapon. Sure, it weighs the same as a few bags of cement and kicks like Ong Bak on a good day, but boy does she tear shit up…
Funny how I can remember every little detail about a weapon I haven’t touched in four years, and yet I often forget to take my essentials with me when I venture out into the world. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve arrived at my destination, only to realise an important document or something to that effect has been left back at the house — and that’s despite reminding myself a countless amount of times the prior evening not to forget it. Even thinking about the number of examples I can give has me feeling terrible. Golly gosh…
I’ll stop after the Analytics course. Thankfully this information is easily retained, and that I’m keeping PDF versions of all transcripts for reference. But, no more study after this. I don’t want to live here anymore. This world, this lonely, lonely existence. The responsibilities I never asked for, yet carry out regardless. The constant pain, and internal sorrow. The inability to connect with my peers (and believe me, I’ve fuckin’ tried). The knowledge that the future, though uncertain, is sure to bring more pain and torment than I’m able to deal with.
I’ve done more than I thought I was capable of, and continue to do so in some vain attempt at maintaining the initiative. Well, I reckon I ought to put a stop to that shit right quick, eh? Why bother bettering myself so that some self-serving company can exploit me for all they can in the name of hard work? Do I really want to find myself in another office, working in an environment I know I can’t thrive in? Is jumping ship really going to see a marked improvement in my own situation, and of those I care about?
These are all questions I’ve asked myself a lot in the past few months. One common theme is that of not having anything in support of continuing to live and making these proposed changes. Now, mind you, this was a heck of a lot to process, so don’t you for a second think that I just pulled this out of my arse because “I can’t cope” or some such tripe.
I won’t go back to the hard stuff. There’s no need to when the doc gives me good enough stuff, but the sensation is still the same — euphoria, constant nodding, good feelings all around. No constipation nor the “opiate itch” either, which is a real plus. I may put this all in a bad light, but the fact remains that I’m able to function whilst under the influence, and often forget just how miserable my circumstances are.
…provided I stay within acceptable dosage levels that is.
It’s been two years since I went to this part of the ranges. I had a bit of a trek through there yesterday, seeing as they’re thinking of shutting the entire centennial park down due to the dieback disease spreading amongst the kauri trees. The last time I was here I took a few pictures, so I decided to do the same again. It brought back certain memories, but it felt good being in nature again. I even managed to see a tui bathing itself for a good few minutes, before I stumbled on a rock and scared the poor fella away. I hadn’t seen a tui in the longest time either…
I was at home in nature, in the ranges I’ve tramped across countless times. The quiet serenity of nature in all her beauty, and not a single soul to disturb me. Once again, I could bear witness to nature and that from which we came — and to which I shall return.
I could never imagine being that beautiful, but being one part of the entire picture? Yes, perhaps. I can only hope that nature would be so kind as to repurposing my broken corpse into something as beautiful as a kauri tree, or kakapo for that matter. My homeland is truly magnificent, the culture behind it more so. Most have forgotten that connection, but I’ve still kept it — thanks to my family who are no longer here.
I won’t head to Australia. I don’t think I could bring myself to actually live in that bloody place anyhow. Another remnant of 2015 was that of travelling through my country and revisiting places I hadn’t been to in quite some time. So, that’s what I’ll do. With my government assistance ending soon, I’ll be financially set until around Christmas time. I’ll travel from Cape Reinga right down to… Christchurch I reckon. Hadn’t been through there since Burnham and the quakes, and despite my thoughts on the city and its people, I’d do well to pay my respects to those who were lost.
Tauranga remains one of my favourite places, and with summer just around the corner, it ought to be a good time to cruise through the Mount. The Pacific side of the Far North is a sight to behold — the Bay of Islands, and curving back around to Kerikeri ought to do it. Marlborough Sounds and the small town of Picton were a pit stop for me back in ’10, but it seemed like quite the quaint area. The Sounds were gorgeous — from the ferry, in the air, and on foot. Taupo near the lake and Central Plateau. She’ll be chilly, but I’ve always loved that part of the country.
No matter where I go, I just want to enjoy myself. My mind is made up on opting out afterwards — this life of mine, and this world of ours… I’m the round peg still doing its best to squeeze into a damned square hole. Story of my life, all things considered…
“Because I want to see people and I want to see life.”
Not in some futile hope that it’ll convince me that there’s more to this life than the rat race, but because I want to see what it is that keeps others tethered.
“I’m flyin’ to the moon again, dreamin’ about marzipan. Taking all my medicine to take my thoughts away.”
Lady Del Rey… always knows what’s on my fuckin’ mind. Those two lines right there — something sweet, something sour. Sugar, spice, and all things not so nice; just the recipe I needed.
My lust for life withered out and died long ago. That sensation of lust long forgotten, along with whatever sex drive I once had. I think about my friends, about those who no longer talk with me, and those who have long since left this world. All I should do is send my thoughts, my love, through the ether, and hope it’ll guide them through the trials they’re all still yet to face. They’re strong, resilient, and know how to adapt to this world and what it’ll throw at them.
All I can say to myself and anyone who’ll bother paying me the courtesy of reading my nonsense is this: everything is gonna be okay.
“I hope that I come back one day. To tell you that I really changed, baby.”
…because I know the universe is cruel enough to keep my soul tethered here long after my physical form has become worm food or fertiliser. Instead of being ghosted, I’ll be the one doing the haunting. Heh.
But seriously: everything is gonna be okay.