Life Story: Raine Street, Khandallah Road, Hutt Road, part B

Khandallah Road and Hutt Road

David: I will now talk about my time at 1/106 Khandallah Road. And I want to talk about my time at Hutt Road as well, but that might not be the whole of the story. Not just yet anyway.

I moved to 106 Khandallah Road, Khandallah, Wellington on the 23rd of August, 2023.

The apartment was basically a flat on the ground floor of the house. It was a self contained studio apartment right beside the garage. It had a bathroom and a small kitchen. The house above it housed an older man and a middle aged woman (both Chinese). I didn’t get to know them while I was there. It was claimed that they didn’t speak much English.

Sally: Can you just tell me again how you ended up there?

David: Well, I found it because I didn’t know where else to go.

I had tried to find a better place. But I couldn’t seem to manage to find a better place. I was really struggling for a while. It was difficult.

I had issues when it came to money. And I didn’t really have enough money to rent a decent place to live.

I had issues when it came to my health and hygiene.

And I had some problems when it came to websites like Trade Me and other rental listings websites.

And last but not least, my family wanted to push me out of the house ASAP.

I will now discuss all four issues.

And I will also talk about the process of hunting for a place to live.

So that is five topics to cover.

Sally: Five topics. Let’s go for it. Let’s get on with it.

***

Money

Firstly, I didn’t have full access to enough money to rent a nice place to stay. At the time I was relying on savings and welfare. But I had mostly run out of my savings. My savings mostly came from an inheritance I had received from my grandpa.

Most places to rent cost too much for me to be able to afford it. Unless I was to go flatting. But I wasn’t clean enough to go flatting. I needed to have the ability to shower. I had lots of dead skin built up on my body, and disgusting matted hair on my head. And a gross, filthy scalp and other such issues. I also would have been unable to help out with chores and such things. And so renting a room in a flat wasn’t realistic. I would have loved to have rented a room in a flat! But only if I had been both healthy and clean enough to make that happen. Renting a room in a flat is much cheaper than renting a studio apartment.

I had some money trapped in a joint term deposit account. Which I couldn’t get to. I actually had a fair bit of money in there. I tried to get access to it prior to the separation agreement, but I couldn’t manage to make that happen. The term deposit came to maturity while I was staying at Raine Street and then it got (automatically) put into a savings account in Amanda’s name.

I owned a half share of the relationship property, and so was legally entitled to half of the value of all of the property. But to unlock my half of the assets, we had to actually sort out the separation agreement, or otherwise go to court. Amanda had sent me a proposal for a separation agreement. But the downside of this was that it gave her custody of Lily for the foreseeable future. And it had maybe one or two other clauses that I didn’t like. Mostly to do with the protection order and parenting orders. And as another issue, I was probably owed more net assets. And so I delayed signing an agreement on the division of assets. Looking back, this was a mistake. To get access to my share of the assets and funds, I had to sign a separation agreement. And I wanted to negotiate a better agreement. In hindsight I probably should have signed the separation agreement ASAP just to get some assets, just so that I could get a better place to live.

And so I didn’t have enough money for a good place to live. Not right away anyway. 

I asked my lawyer for a bit of help unlocking funds from the term deposit. But I just didn’t get anywhere with that. 

I also talked to the ANZ bank a few times, to try to get better access to funds. But I couldn’t seem to make it happen.

Overall, I wanted to sort out my legal problems before moving out of my Nana’s place. I wanted to sort out the separation agreement and the division of assets. I wanted to deal with my criminal charges. I wanted to deal with the protection order and parenting order. And I wanted to sort out the DNA and motherhood issues. And I wanted to do all of this before moving house. In particular, I wanted to sort out the financial situation first, so that I could afford to rent a decent place. Given that my health was so poor.

And I also wanted to sort out my health problems. Please remember that I didn’t know at the time what the cause of my health problems were.

*

Health and Hygiene

I also felt that due to my hygiene issues, I would have difficulty finding a place to stay. I was quite filthy and unkempt and I felt that many landlords might balk at the prospect of having me live in their property. They might feel that I wouldn’t take good care of it, given the way that I looked. And also, I felt that they might think that I would perhaps actually end up making the place gross. Just by dropping dead skin and hair everywhere. And I also felt that they might throw me out if I moved into a place but wasn’t clean enough to live there. Furthermore, I wasn’t going to be able to do my own cleaning.

I would have to find a very understanding landlord.

And so I wondered if I might have to offer to pay a little extra money to encourage them to put up with someone as filthy and unkempt as I was (I hadn’t had a shower in years). 

Now as to how I looked, I was barefoot, usually wearing shorts (or sometimes sweatpants) and had a custom made sleeveless, oversized shirt on. I had a ton of facial hair (at first). And my hair was caveman long and scraggly. It was awful. I actually wasn’t realistically able to wear shoes and socks, or to wear a long sleeve top, or to wear a jacket. And so I wasn’t exactly presentable!

I couldn’t move my arms and legs properly. I can’t move my legs properly, because I have special techniques and methods for remaining mobile and upright at all. And this means that I can’t actually use my legs normally. And I can’t move my arms properly, they’re stuck pinned to my sides. And I can’t move my torso properly. That’s a problem too.

And maintaining stability and holding my “shape” in terms of posture was a big struggle. Or in other words I had problems with the overall structural integrity of my torso and other stuff.

Some of the things I struggled to cope with were getting in and out of the car, getting up or down stairs, or up and down ramps. I also struggled to cope with car trips in particular.

I don’t want to explain fully how all of that works right now. But some of it has been discussed elsewhere.

And this made it a lot harder to find a place to stay.

For example, viewing apartments and flats was prohibitively difficult. I needed to be driving around looking for places to live and to stay. But to even visit an apartment or flat  just once would take its toll on my body. But to be constantly visiting place after place to find a spot to live would be hard, it would be perhaps unsupportable. I could manage one visit to look at an apartment or flat. But to manage visit after visit was prohibitively difficult. Even driving from place to place was challenging. And simultaneous to finding a place to stay, I had legal problems to solve in both the family court and in the district courts. And I also had to sort out a separation agreement for dividing assets. And I also had to get evidence regarding Lily and her parentage to be able to solve certain legal problems. And so I was a little bit preoccupied.

And so I just didn’t make enough progress quickly enough when it came to finding a place to live. I needed to move more quickly.

*

Trade Me and other rental listings websites

I had some issues with finding places on Trade Me. But it’s complicated! I will explain it now.

Trade Me is a popular place to find rental accomodation online in NZ. They do online auctions and both rental and purchases in real estate. When I first started looking for places on Trade Me, there were a lot of good places to choose from, or seemingly good places. But I had no money. And then later on I found that there weren’t as many good places. They stopped uploading good places, and started uploading just bad places. And once I had money, the good places were gone.

I’ll talk about this more later (and I’ll talk I about it more in the section under the heading Raine Street). Such as the pot plants and puns.

*

Getting pushed out

The next issue is that my family wanted me out sooner rather than later. Which seemed to me to be a quite alarming thing. I mean I was badly crippled, I had had multiple crimes committed against me, and was seemingly on camera, and all of my family were supporting this scheme, this conspiracy. No one broke ranks. And my nana, who had previously pleaded with me to encourage me to move in to her place, made it clear to me that she wanted me to move out. She gave me 12 weeks notice about 5 weeks in to staying there. I think I have explained that above. I think that her excuse was ostensibly something to do with a conflict or argument I’d had with my brother that she used as an excuse. This conflict was of course an artificially contrived thing.

They had been dropping hints that they would push me out of the house. Or ask me to move. There was actually of discussion about this back at 6 Raine Street. But I’m not sure how much to go into it here.

[I probably will add some stuff in about it in the section for Raine Street]

And so I was rushed into moving before it was appropriate.

*

Looking for a place to stay:

I put quite a bit of work into trying to find a place to stay. And I’ll talk about it here.

I kept on looking for places to live on Trade Me and on other websites. But if you want to find a good place to live, then you need to visit it. You need to visit it in person to see if it is any good, and to see if it meets your requirements.

And I found that you also have to visit the place for a viewing to have even a chance of getting the place. I think that you need to get your name checked off of a list before you can even hope to sign a contract to move in.

But I wasn’t realistically capable of getting out there to view a ton of places.

So I asked my father to help me out by viewing the places. And I asked my Uncle Andy for help viewing the places (he did  view three places). I even asked Uncle Andy if he knew of anyone who owned a safe and comfortable apartment that I could rent.

I also asked my Uncle Jonathan if I could move in with him. And we discussed that. I don’t remember why that didn’t happen. I think that it was because people dropped weird hints, and that he was clearly tied in with the system. And also because he had stairs to get into and out of the house. And I couldn’t handle stairs. I also think that he was only interested in having me there for a handful of weeks. And that combined with the stairs seemed like too much for me.

And so here is how it was hunting for accomodation.

I would often just be sitting in my chair in my room browsing through things on my phone looking for places to stay. And when I found a place that I liked, then I would write up the first stage of the application. And then I would arrange to have someone view the place on my behalf. And then they (Paul or Uncle Andy) would view it. I would often call them on the phone as well.

And then I would check the box on the website saying that I had viewed it and hoped to get an offer to move in. But I have to admit that finding a place to live was horrible. It took a bit of doing. We looked at a lot of places. Well they did the viewing, I did the searching online. And I called the landlords online.

Uncle Andy viewed three of them for me. One in Martin square, one in Torrens terrace, and one elsewhere.

*

And then in the end I just took the Khandallah place, which I think was one of the worst of them.

Here is how that went.

I had seen it advertised online again and again. And I didn’t want it because it didn’t have good photos and it was $400 per week. Which was just plain too expensive! But anyway, here we are.

I had been hunting for one for a while. And I asked to have this one, even though I thought that it might be horrible.

My family wanted to push me out of where I was living at Raine Street, and so I took this one even though I didn’t want it.

I really didn’t want it.

Sally: Did your family really push you out of your nana’s house in Karori and force you to jump into a new place too quickly? Even though you were struggling to find a place to live and had been badly crippled for years, being kept crippled electronically and had suffered from very bad health since the age of 18, induced by electronic attacks by your family (family includes my in-laws), and had been an invalid since the age of 20?

David: Yes, that is correct. They should have let me stay another month or two while I sorted out a new place to live.

I did try hard to get a better place first.

So anyway, I had my father inspect it first. And then I asked if I could have a contract to move in. 

I just want to go on a brief digression about floors.

For a long time I had felt that what I needed for the sake of recovery was plenty of space to walk back and forth and also to do squats. And I needed this to be on firm floors. Now compact, firm carpet was fine, but hard, wooden floors would have been even better. And so I was always trying to find a place with good floors.

It had been a topic of conversation even as far back as in Princeton Road. In fact, my family had been trying to persuade me to move house for a while. And to move to my Nana’s house. One of the draw cards of my nana’s house was that it had a nice long corridor with hard, wooden floors that I could walk back and forth on. I had told my father (and others) that I didn’t want to move house. And the reason I didn’t want to move house was that I just wanted to recover my health by continuing to exercise and do squats and walk and stuff. And I liked the reliable house I had at Princeton Road. The floors were firm and the carpet wasn’t deep. Please don’t forget that at the time I wasn’t fully aware of why I was crippled.

And so I said many times that the main thing I wanted in a new place to live was firm, level, even floors!

And anyway, he inspected it. And he told me that the place was fine and that the floors were fine.

I repeat, my own father inspected it and he told me that the place was fine and that the floors were fine.

And so I signed the contract and decided to move in. It was a 12 month contract, and bond was set at $1600 (note to self: check it). I had to borrow money from my father to afford to make bond.

But it was bad. I didn’t even see it before moving in. It had super cushy carpet with multiple inches of underlay. And my feet sank into it. It was horrible. And there was a basically impassable driveway. The whole area was hard to navigate. It was awful.

And it didn’t have an accessible shower, which was another massively important thing for me.

I had wanted three things: good floors, an accessible shower, and for it to be easy to get into the property, and out of it (basic accessibility). And I got none of those things.

**

Don’t forget, I had my father view it for me. I had him check it out for me, and check out the floors. And he said it was okay. And he talked to the landlords. My dad said that the carpets were all good, and not super soft and squishy.

And so that is how I ended up in the Khandallah studio apartment. 

The number one thing I wanted was nice, firm floors. But I ended up in a place with bad floors.

*****

*****

David: I moved to 1/106 Khandallah Road, Khandallah, Wellington on the 23rd of August, 2023.

Here is the story of moving itself.

I'm perhaps over emphasising this point, but here is an important detail about moving house and about finding a place to stay. The thing is that my Uncle Andy helped me to move into the studio apartment at Khandallah Road. What I mean by that is that he showed up to help Dad get my stuff all moved into Khandallah. And he used his car to transport things. Half of my stuff got packed into his car.

And so that will be part of this section of the story.

***

I will now tell you about the move itself.

***

I woke up on the day of the move. I think I slept late, but when I woke up I think I was feeling okayish. Which was surprising. I had done some packing the night before. And I had been feeling out of sorts from packing the night before. And I thought I would sleep badly, but I slept okay. And then it was the day of the move!

And so we got to work.

I wasn’t well enough to do a bunch of trips to and from the car/s packed at the front of the house. By that I mean that walking from my bedroom, to the rear of the house, down the ramp, and down the path on the side of the house, to the cars and then back again. That was a struggle, and came at a price. It would have cost me to make multiple trips on foot to the cars and back.

And so I managed much of it from my room and inside the house.

The original plan was that we transport everything ahead of me. And then that I take the last trip at the end of the day. I didn’t follow that plan.

They showed up and everything went into cars. And it was chaos. And I directed the movement of goods from my end at Raine Street into cars.

And then after enough stuff had gone, I decided that the place for me was the Khandallah apartment on the other end. I wanted to be there so that I could unpack things on the other end. 

And then after a load or two went, I jumped into a car and travelled to the new location (Dad’s car, because I dropped gross debris such as skin, hair and generic dead skin mixed with dirt and grime that flaked off on anything when I travelled by car). And then I was in Khandallah.

Once I got there, I had some trouble with locks and doors.

And then I’m in there.

The first thing I notice is that door is horrible, and will lock me out given half a chance, and the second thing I notice is that the entrance way will be difficult to navigate without fatigue and “consequences”. The door frame is a problem, and therefore is an awkward step into the place and out of it (I didn’t know how to handle steps and stuff back then, and tbh I still can’t do them properly now). And the third thing I notice is that the carpet is super cushy.

And half of my stuff is there. Several hours later the stuff from Uncle Andy’s car arrived.

And I have to get settled in.

The whole place became freezing cold the moment my father left the room. Which makes me see that the whole place is wired up for cold. At the time I thought that the place was filled with underfloor tubes that had cold water in them, just like underfloor heating but for cold. And that this was how they chilled me. I was appalled that they could do this to me. I also believed that the place was full of cameras.

And then I was at 1/106 Khandallah Road, Khandallah.

Sally: It sounds like a pretty crummy situation!

David: Yes, it wasn’t any good!

Now back to the move itself.

I think they rummaged through my personal belongings, including all of my notebooks and stuff. And also my general belongings. I reckon that some stuff got damaged. And I some stuff definitely went missing. I can't remember exactly which stuff went missing or got damaged. And I can't prove it! But plenty of stuff like food, crockery, tableware, stationary, went missing. And a lot of stuff like notebooks and note pads, I just can’t find anymore. Somewhere along the way I “lost” the document which talked about my getting denied information from the department of internal affairs. It was the “sorry we can’t give you that information letter”. It vanished somewhere along the line. And also I lost my notepads that had information about what happened and when and where. Like the harassment, Paul’s assault and all of the crazy stuff that had been happening. I have lost paperwork. [and currently I have lost my passport, as of 2026, even my expired one].

Every move that I do comes at a price. And it costs me. Stuff gets damaged or goes missing. And I have to replace it.

Anyway, Uncle Andy and my father rummaged through my stuff.

Sally: They eat paperwork and notes?

David: Yes, they do. And it’s my own father and my own uncle. They’re trying to cover things up.Especially the Lily and IVF thing.

I would like to go in a brief digression on Uncle Andy. 

I would also like to mention that I asked Uncle Andy to help me find a lawyer. He visited Raine Street at least once back after I had moved in there. Presumably he did this to say hello. And I asked him for help finding a good lawyer and also in finding a safe and appropriate place to stay.  I asked him if he knew anyone looking to rent out clean and tidy studio apartments or one bedroom apartments. Anyway he didn't help me to find a lawyer, and he said that he didn’t know anyone who could rent me a place to live. I later asked him for help finding a place to stay, to view places for me. And he was willing to help me to find a place to live by “viewing them” and inspecting them for me. And then he “helped” out with actually moving. And I asked him, pleaded for help to find a good place to live. I needed a good place. I asked him if he knew anyone looking to rent out an apartment, but he didn't know anyone.

The next thing to mention is that he knew I was physically unwell. And he could have helped me to know why I was sick. One sentence: it's the cell towers making you sick. He just needed to say that one sentence. That’s it.

And as for his career, he is currently a member of parliament. He is in the nationalist party, "NZ First". He is a back bencher and the chairman of the transportation select committee. He is a part of the ruling coalition, because his party is part of the ruling coalition. He is a fairly significant politician in New Zealand. His boss is Winston Peters.

[And as a brief digression, I would like to talk about Winston Peters. He once showed up in disguise in Dannevirke. He was in the Merrylees Hotel and Bar, we talked for a bit, and he offered to sell me drugs. I can't confirm that it was Winston Peters! It could have been a doppelgänger! He offered to sell me marijuana. It might have been not him. I could go either way. I think it was him.

And speaking of politicians showing up in person. Chris Hipkins showed up too, in Dannevirke, on a motorcycle. He stayed in the motel room next to mine. He whipped his shirt off and made a fuss over tending to his motorbike shirtless. He is our former prime minister, from January 25, 2023, to November 27, 2023. And is currently the leader of the Labour Party in New Zealand. It might have been not him. It could have been a doppelgänger. But I think that it was him.]

****

****

David: Shall we talk about what the apartment itself was like?

Sally: Yes, what was the apartment itself like?

David: First of all, I’ll just give you a few pictures.

David: The carpet was tan coloured and super thick. Very thick. It was horrible. But it wasn’t actually the carpet that was thick, it was the underlay. There was a ton of underlay under the carpet. My feet sank deeply into it.

This actually hurt my feet, which had already collapsed inwardly. And by extension is harmed the rest of my posture. It really did cause me significant problems.

Sally: Was the posture and being crippled thing was a problem?

David: Yes, it was always a problem for me.

Sally: I understand. I read the page “torso integrity compromised” and “how I got this way part two” and I understand that things were pretty bad. I also understand that it wasn’t “just de-conditioning” as these people like to describe it.

David: Yes. It wasn’t fun. I just didn’t have any mobility. Arms pinned to the sides, and I couldn’t move my legs properly.

The whole place was full of windows with wooden frames that open outwards. It had a lot of windows. But I couldn’t reach them properly. The place didn’t get a whole lot of sun.

It contained a fridge and a microwave. The microwave didn’t work very well. It did not have a dishwasher. It has a heat pump.

It had a toilet, a shower and a basin. It has a washing machine and a dryer. The lights were LED lights and too bright. And I had thought that they were damaging my eyesight.

It had tiles on the floor and was close to a train station/stop. The bus drove close past the house.

It was actually just a lower down flat in a larger, three story house owned by a Chinese couple/family. I don’t know if they were a couple or not. They lived on the top two floors. I lived on the bottom floor.

It was smallish as a flat. And for someone who couldn’t go outside, it was tiny. 

The place was naturally quite cold (it was also quite unnaturally cold as well, but I’ll talk about that later).

**

And now I will talk to you about gait, posture and stuff like that.

**

Gait and stuff 

And my mobility and posture was so horrible that I just couldn’t do anything. It was hell.

I had a way of carrying myself back then, back before I moved into the Khandallah place. It was a kluge, but it worked.

But it was so bad back then in the place with the cushy carpet that I had to learn a new gait to even cope. It was horrible. My coping mechanisms and techniques for dealing with the issues that I’d had prior had actually stopped working. And I was in free fall. And had to come up with a new kluge.

I had to brace my shoulders back and down. And brace my ankles. And stiffen my feet. And kind of rest the whole of my body down and backwards into my skeleton. And also my feet hurt. I had to be quite vigilant.

Being in that place hurt me quite a bit. And I couldn’t see straight. I had eye sight problems too.

Next, the moment I stepped in there it was freezing cold. They chilled me. And please remember this: I believed that I was on camera, and all of these houses were modified. The actual houses. There are details I won’t add until I have done my full story. Like why I believed what I believed.

Sally: What do you mean by that? “There are details I won’t add until I have done my full story.”?

David: What I mean is that it would be a lot easier to tell my story if I could have first written the earlier parts first. Let me rephrase that, if I could write my story plainly and clearly start to finish in a sequential manner, and then edit it in peace, and have outside input into writing. Then we could get a better story together. But because I’m jumping back and forth, some details get missed. Or properly explained.

Next, unpacking my room was hard. And I didn’t have enough space! Also had a lot of trouble with getting enough rest, packing myself, feeding myself. The fridge wasn’t very good. I struggled with washing and laundry. I had to set up my room and buy certain items.

The process of setting my place up took a while. It was hard. I just couldn’t move around properly.

And so even basic tasks were hard.

I had to do weird stuff once I was in there. 

For example, I have to find a way to drink water. I can’t drink from a bottle normally and I can’t find my paper cups. And so I end up doing things like drinking from a pot with a straw. And I have to perform almost every task and physical movement in a carefully calculated manner. Oh, and they stole my cups. I think. I can’t actually do dishes properly, and once I’m there it gets really difficult. And the way I cook is largely dictated by how much help I can get with dishes and how many I can do myself.

****

****

Khandallah: What was it like being there?

David: And so let us talk about my time in Khandallah. We can answer the question of, “what was is like living there”?

Back in Khandallah which was I think mid 2023 through to early 2024, they attacked me many times and quite badly. And coerced me into playing their games. They forced me to play their games and to tell them that I was interested in them.

I was extremely badly crippled, and without total focus on controlling my body I would suffer symptoms and was worsening badly. And I struggled with walking on the carpet, which had very much padding beneath it. I had to learn a special new gait (way of walking) just to cope. And special types of bracing my body. Even so, it hurt me just being there. It took me weeks to figure out how to manage it.

And then while badly crippled, they repeatedly exposed me to hot and cold. To freeze me or chill me or overheat me all day, in an alternating fashion. I got no rest. Or very little. This is because I had to constantly change where I was in the room, or adjust the door just to survive the changing temperatures. All day long, I was battling the elements. Too hot? I have to down. Too cold, I have to warm up. If I’m at the right temperature, I just sit in silence and listen to banal music to relax. And then I repeat the process. They used attacks of hot/cold and hints to threaten me into chasing them.

This thing with the hot and cold, combined with being very badly crippled, and also walking around on extremely soft floors was extremely difficult.

I couldn’t dress myself properly. I couldn’t realistically wear socks and shoes. Nor could I wear slippers. I couldn’t manage to wear sweatshirts or jackets. I had to wear modified shirts with the sleeves chopped off and sewn up.

Anyway, they were pushing me to take an interest in them.

I will have to try to figure out how the whole thing went.

I suppose it goes back to Raine Street where they were teaching me about their system. About the fae. And they seemed to want to get into some relationships with me. The women did. And there was a ton of pressure. A ton of pressure to get into a relationship. It was weird.

And when I went to Khandallah, there was still pressure to get into a relationship. Something to do with olives. But I didn’t want to get into a relationship? Or have a “something” with the people there.

But I’ll have to jump back to Raine Street to rewrite that segment. And come back to this one.

Anyway, they put pressure on me. While I imagined myself to be on camera.

[And on one occasion when I ignored Brynn and basically said I'm just not doing anything you want me to do, I had my nervous system blasted 7-8 times in the night. I just listened to classical music all evening, and ignored them. And then after that they spazzed at me and attacked me with nervous systems throughout the night.[

I had made it clear that I didn’t want to get involved with them!

Also, I got blasted for going outside to try to attract attention from guys on the road. I had no real escape. I went out to stand in the drive way. To try to get away from the apartment. And they blasted me anyway.

Getting up and down the driveway was prohibitively difficult. It’s hard moving at all back then! I had to do so much stuff just to get around.

They forced me to masturbate all day and night with attacks on my nervous system and minds eye. And threats of worse.

And when I stopped masturbating, they attacked my back with something called gravity cannons.

I got attacked if I dared stop masturbating for even a few hours. I got physically attacked

It was horrible.

It was like something like mengel might do.

If our politicians did something like that to someone else, I'd be suggesting all of them be hung, drawn and quartered (before reminding myself of my principles). I don't care if it was the king or queen of England, the emperor of Japan or the Pacal the Great the ajaw of Mayan Palenque doing it, they should be tossed off of a cliff and killed.

The attack they did tightened my back badly and was putting a lot of pressure on my back. I didn't have a lot of resistance to it. It was hurting me. And it was the threat of that that induced me to keep masturbating.

And telling the "women" that I wanted them. I was obliged to tell them that I wanted them.

Even though I told them many times that I wasn't interested.

I told them so many times that I didn't want them. That I wanted to be left alone. That if I had my way I'd talk to zero members of the “fae”. That they are such horrible people.

And I said that I didn't want these women in my life, in my home, let alone in my bed. That they were a liability, not an asset.

I even did a literal art project to tell them "no thanks", which I will post here.

The art project involved a lot of references.

For example, they often called me a capybara (which is a totally harmless Guinea pig like creature). This was to suggest that they saw me as totally harmless.

They also had this thing where they called me “Fanta”, which was linked to calling me an orange, which is linked to calling me a “fruit”, which is of course a way to call someone a homosexual.

They also had this thing about pasta, which means “pass”. Which means you’re passing on other people. You’re passing on sex with other people.

I also made a reference to “riding off into the sunset”. Which had already been discussed multiple times.

The pasta was “Christmas pasta”, which meant that I was passing on having “Christmas”. I didn’t want to do Christmas (they all wanted to have sex with me, all the women from my past in my life). And I didn’t want to do this because of two reasons: STIs and also pregnancy. But also I wasn’t able to shower. And it wouldn’t have been safe. I couldn’t even manage to go on top. And I wasn’t safe or stable on my back…

And lastly, I used imagery taken from a picture of a rental car driving off into the sunset. “Omega” rental cars. They had used this image with me many times. And so I was referring to things that they had mentioned to me.

In the end, the overall message is…

Fanta capybara is “passing” on everyone and wants to ride off into the sunset…

I tried to make it clear that I wasn’t interested in getting involved with any of them!!!

And I had tried so hard to tell them I wasn’t interested, and had been ignored so many times… that in the end I had to try to print out pictures and make up artwork to tell them to get lost and that wasn’t interested!!!

I at the time had thought that I was being kept under camera and microphone surveillances. And so when I put the photo on the table, I figured that they could see it. I now know that this was wrong.

And I would have been much better off just getting a blog and telling people in that. Anonymously…

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And that is the end of the khandallah stuff for now.

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Hutt road, teaser:

I told them again and again that all I want from them is to give me back what they stole from me. That is, my health. And I wanted to be left alone and to have the practical freedom to walk around town by myself on my own two feet. I wanted to have my mobility back. And that I couldn’t even walk to the shops to buy a stick of gum. And I said again and again I just want my health back and to be left to live in peace. And I want to be able to come and go as I please. And have my mobility back.

And to do that, I need them to “un-cripple” me.

When did I do this? I did it when they kept on asking me, “what do you want”. But strangely enough, they never listened to what I wanted. What I really wanted. They just tortured and tormented me until I said the words they wanted. But also, the words were part of the game in which I was supposed to earn the end of the game and also get my health back. I actually told them again and again that I care nothing for the women. I just want my health back and to be left alone.

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Another teaser:

Back in Hutt Road: They made it clear to me that fighting for the women was tied to having my health back. And that is why I fought for them.

This was combined with the threat of being attacked, and also combined with actually being attacked. It was the carrot and the stick. It was the “carrot” of having my health back and also having the women, and the stick of being attacked.

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Read me:

[I told them in so many different ways at so many different times that I didn’t want them in my life, in my home, let alone in bed with me]

[I tried so hard to reject them and make it clear that they weren’t my cup of tea and that I didn’t want to get involved with them]

[I tried very hard to push them out of my life]

[I told them that I didn’t want to do business with their brothel]

[and I told them that they had bad character and weren’t what I wanted in my life]

[And I told them that I needed a shower, not sex.]

[And I told them that if I had the chance to leave, I would just “bolt” and run away.]

[this is gist level truth, not quibble proof truth]

[the truth is I can’t remember everything I said or communicated. Also, I was often communicating through text in my phone.]

I repeat!!

[I told them in so many different ways at so many different times that I didn’t want them in my life, in my home, let alone in bed with me]

[I tried so hard to reject them and make it clear that they weren’t my cup of tea and that I didn’t want to get involved with them]

[I tried very hard to push them out of my life]

[I told them that I didn’t want to do business with their brothel]

[and I told them that they had bad character and weren’t what I wanted in my life]

[And I told them that I needed a shower, not sex.]

[And I told them that if I had the chance to leave, I would just “bolt” and run away.]

[this is gist level truth, not quibble proof truth]

[the truth is I can’t remember everything I said or communicated. Also, I was often communicating through text in my phone.]

I repeat!

[I told them in so many different ways at so many different times that I didn’t want them in my life, in my home, let alone in bed with me]

[I tried so hard to reject them and make it clear that they weren’t my cup of tea and that I didn’t want to get involved with them]

[I tried very hard to push them out of my life]

[I told them that I didn’t want to do business with their brothel]

[and I told them that they had bad character and weren’t what I wanted in my life]

[And I told them that I needed a shower, not sex.]

[And I told them that if I had the chance to leave, I would just “bolt” and run away.]

[this is gist level truth, not quibble proof truth]

I repeat!

[the truth is I can’t remember everything I said or communicated. Also, I was often communicating through text in my phone.]

[I told them in so many different ways at so many different times that I didn’t want them in my life, in my home, let alone in bed with me]

[I tried so hard to reject them and make it clear that they weren’t my cup of tea and that I didn’t want to get involved with them]

[I tried very hard to push them out of my life]

[I told them that I didn’t want to do business with their brothel]

[and I told them that they had bad character and weren’t what I wanted in my life]

[And I told them that I needed a shower, not sex.]

[And I told them that if I had the chance to leave, I would just “bolt” and run away.]

[this is gist level truth, not quibble proof truth]

[the truth is I can’t remember everything I said or communicated. Also, I was often communicating through text in my phone.]

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This is mostly here for David’s sake:

Writing notes and miscellaneous:

They keep on saying, “we do soul gestalt”. But if they did that, they would have understood I just wanted my health back and to be left alone. And that I actively wanted  nothing from them.

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Note to self:

Add the contents of this to the story, but rewrite it slightly.

Talking about wanting a harem

I told these people again and again, back when I was living in Khandallah, which might be 24 months ago now, and when we first raised the issue of harems, that I did not want a harem.

They asked me again and again, “do you want a harem”, “do you want a harem”. I said no, not really. I don’t want a harem on your terms. It would be too coercive. And I don’t want to coerce women into having sex with me. It’s not my cup of tea.

By “harem” they meant do you want to have a bunch of “friends with benefits” supplied to you by us? Or if I were to use their language: By “harem” they meant do you want to have a bunch of “fuck buddies” supplied to you by us? Their preferred term was “fuck buddies”, I would have preferred the term “girl friends” or (voluntary) “friends with benefits relationships.”

Note: they wanted the harem to be a decentralised system of fuck buddies.

Note 2: Also, the women wanted to *be* the supply of fuck buddies. They wanted to *be* the harem.

**

I told them many, many, many times that I would prefer not to associate with them. And that I didn’t want a harem on their terms, and that I believed their type of harem to inherently coercive. To women.

But anyway, they used violence and threats to get me to “fight” for their harem. That is, to fight for the right to get them into bed, coercively.

**

Unbeknownst to me, they pretended that my mind had been wiped. And that I had been “de-logos’d”, whatever that means. I’m not actually sure if it means anything sensible. I don't think that it means anything much.

But because of that assumption they felt entitled to ignore the things that I told them in favour of merely looking at my mental images and impressions. 

**

They also ignored me when I said things like, “I want nothing to do with you. You are all perverts, creeps and horrible people. If I had my way, I’d get healthy, leave town and never so much as speak to a single one of you again.”

They ignored me when I told them that I didn’t want them (the women) in my house, let alone my bed.

They ignored me when I told them that I would prefer to remain celibate.

They ignored me when I said that, “I just don’t value it”. That is, sex from a fae concubine aka dregvant sex worker.

They ignored me when I said, through playing music, to just “shut up and let me go!”.

The ignored me when I said that I just wanted to go back to university to study something like science. And that getting involved with them would be a bad and sad thing to have to do.

They also tried to define the system of harems as “domination” rather than coercion. But I think that’s an inferior choice of word. And I think that coercion is a much better choice of word.

**

Coercion: 

“Coercion is the act of forcing someone to do something against their will through the use of threats, intimidation, or actual force. It removes a person's free will by putting them in fear of negative consequences if they do not comply.”

**

I tried to tell them that I didn't want to have a harem, because it's inherently coercive to the women. And I feel that that should be taken into account. I didn't want any of this.

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***

Mention uncle Jonathan at some point.

I talked to him to get advice and help, especially when it came to the floors.

**

Hutt Road

They also told me that I had to use the words “fuck” instead of “sleep with” or have sex with.

**

Flat hunting, for Khandallah

Dad sabotaged one of the good places across town. I think it was somewhere like south of Brooklyn. Like in Vogel town. But can’t remember where it was!

I think I nearly had that one… and it looked good!!

They were so positive and so understanding. And I just needed a viewing. And my father denied it to me.

He was on his way there to do a viewing on my behalf. And then just before it he refused to go in. He got there and turned around. And flatly refused to go in there. He just looked at the outside and left.

If I had had that place, I might not have suffered even half of this harm.

He didn’t even go inside.

I think that place could have changed my life.

I berated him on the phone and pleaded with him to turn back.

But he refused to even view it!

And he insisted that it wasn’t good. And it was gross and down hill and had mould all down the outside.

I think that they were willing to help me! The landlords. So my father ruined it.

He was rude to them and didn’t even look at it inside.

I had talked to them a bunch in text messages and a phone call.

I asked them if they could wait for my father to go back, but when I talked to my father to get him to go back. He said no!!!!

He refused to go back to look at it. And he was being childish about it too.

I think I had a very high chance of getting it. Very high. But he stymied it. And then I ended up in Khandallah!

**

Focus

I should probably just focus on writing my story from 2011 onwards.

I should probably do 2012, 2013, 2014-2016, 2017-2021, 2022. Ummmm. Basically 2012 to 2022…. Those ten years might let you know better what needs to be said in later pages like this.

This page won’t make perfect sense.

And “the system” won’t make perfect sense of it until the earlier story is written.

You know the bit about damaging and maiming a guy so that he can be sequestered as part of a long term breeding scheme that then cripples him totally and insists that he try to get someone pregnant and then fraudulently gets ivf, and then tosses him out while still crippled and lose about everything. And uses massive corruption to cover it up and it’s backed by the president of China and when he tries to flee, the leader of the Labour Party of nz shows up and a member of parliament of the nationalist party of nz helps to cover it up and the leader from that part shows up to play silly games.

Stuff like that.

And the department of internal affairs sides with the lesbian perverts pushing this, and the whole set defends a literal pedophile and a police officer with the NZOM pushes bogus charges and a senior doctor with the NZOM pushes a bogus health report full of lies, that by the way Microsoft tried to delete TWICE. And so on and so forth. 

And a situation where the former head of the nz doctors union (salaried medical professionals) got involved in the whole thing.

That story.

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Extra ideas of stuff to add to my story

Staying at midway Pacifica. And walking to the Khandallah shops (once). And uncle Jonathan. Talk about all of that.

And talk about moving house and Nev and moving house and aunty Wendy. And Hutt Road in general.

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Please be aware: the story on this page isn’t even half told. It’s a work in progress, not even a draft. I probably shouldn’t have uploaded it. And I haven’t even planned out all of the topics yet.

It might be a month or so before this page is done.