Her Eyes See This

Somebody was asking me recently if I was “arty” as a kid. No, hell no, I was a jock and represented my province in two different codes of sport. Art and music was for pussies and women. I had a hearing loss that progressively deteriorated necessitating grommets being inserted twice, once under a local anaesthetic, so I could go hop on a plane and go play in another city. I thought I knew about pain and deafness. I undertook a life of manual labour and used my physical body most of the time, including with women. I rediscovered reading and writing through Blinky Bill who put me on to “On the Road” and then I had to reverse my stance on culture. From there I read all the Beats then went way back to Dostoevsky Pushkin and Tolstoy. My life had not been easy and pain made for an interesting read when I could walk. Now nobody responds to things written about paraplegia or STBI or deafness or epilepsy. Maybe I write too brashly but hey live it, then judge me.

I once wrote that all a writer needs is pain and solitude, not quite sure what somebody that makes music needs, yet. I woke out of a coma not knowing why I was there. My discharge summary stated that I had tremendous trouble coming to terms with the fact that i had suffered a severe traumatic brain injury. That’s because I woke dumb and crying, not knowing where i was or why i was in so much pain, abandoned to a system instead of love and support. I spent a year and a half in hospital with only the tinnitus to keep me company, maybe I should be glad for the ringing as it reminds me I am alive. I received hearing aids after I was discharged from hospital. Being able to hear noises from the left, deaf, side evens me out a bit. Though the volume that I hear in my good ear 80 odd percent, will never drown out the tinnitus. Music has always been a big part of my family life with both parents keen record collectors and music was always playing.

A woman asked me why I had deleted the first verse from the song. It didn’t sound right so I kept taking out word after word until all that was left was the backing track. A woman that likes top 40 said she didn’t like how she could not hear properly what was being sung. I can’t remember what I said back to her but it will never be as loud as “my” tinnitus

This may be the fifteenth or sixteenth go around but hey, give this another shot. Some days my good ear fells like 81%

Considering the circumstances I think I am doing ok.

, and yes, the picture is what it looks like.

We are filthy arty, I am the bastard son of Buster Whizzer and Chips Oink Picasso (UNCLE) and Aotearoa (West Coast Greymouth Rain Stockholm Syndrome)

Ambience In The Quarantine Zone

It’s impossible

To live like this


Magnum P.I.

Yes I am that old

Can’t walk

Lost talk

My stolen voice


Say choice


Coke not Pepsi

The Maker’s Mark

Tree lost its bark

It’s the same as my voice

Heavy Metal

Flower petal

Judas Priest

I tamed the beast

It just needed a pat


Not equalised

I cannot feel my feet

Nor cold or heat

Stuck this way

Born again virgin

Eggs from Sturgeon


She picks her knows

The truth

God damn

Said the atheist man

Is this all a plan?

The Devil

Knows the truth

I’m not victorious

Somewhat notorious

No no

Homer doh

Product of my age

Said the aethiest man

My New Pain (sux)

His mistakes my life

With steady hand I write

Just as high as a kite


What do you do

When the man kills


At work

Fucking jerk

Got away with it

The people don’t unite

No good in fight


Credit card in hand

Milk the bile from gland

You cannot buy a soul

On tick

Watch me trick my heart out

Cash or not

In the parking lot


Insurance is a scam

Cream bun with no jam

Cancel protection                                              

Get ready for injection

Not meat but heat

From the burn


My life

Insure my dick

I should have

I should have

Insured my dick

the bEdbUgs did dRUgs Nesir

The bedbug did drugs

Got high her blood

Stolen song from the ripping

She did acid now she’s trippinggggggg

Insert break to go over trippinggggg

Come down all day

Hate the sunrays

Live like a vampire

The chemical empire

Reduce your soul

Yes I crashed the car

Yo I was drunk driving

Say this ain’t living

I am barely surviving

Gee love I hate

Crap first date

Didn’t even get none

No fun

She found the Devil in prison

I heard he’s risen

Watch’a talking ‘bout Willis

Have you heard I’m the illest


Yeah you know me

Hung from a tree

But of course

Saying may bein su

Mouldy Louie Pasteur

I’m unhomoginiesed

Yet scrutinized

For my behaviour

Watch out I’ll your neighbour

Finger lick my dicken

Will you be my chicken?



There is no perineum just pussy-arse

id / Catheter / Blood /  Love  I can only write this way because I wasn’t born disabled in a wheelchair

(attach a photo of a leg bag)

I emptied the urine and saw it had little clots of blood in it. It took dying while I was at work to make me realise that nothing really matters. I am still surrounded by women only I haven’t fucked a one of them. This is my destiny. I have to put up with all of their inconsistencies, moods-swings and temper tantrums without getting to taste their bits.  I have sealed my own fate. I put my dick into one too many of them. I understand and now know women-woman. I have probably gotten what I deserve. I am still waiting for her to be ready. That is why I’m lonely and chasing white rabbits. There is no blood in my heart but there is blood in my piss (little clots). It is all I will ever see

I was pushing with my head down when she walked up and stood in front of me. She was standing in front of two other women. She was nothing but legs. I looked up. Hi, she said beaming, what’s your name? My name is Blood, I replied. She and her friends laughed. All three were blonde. What are you doing, she asked as her left leg gave out and her heel clacked? My friends and I are on our way to a party, you should come. I will come, I said through half a smile, but not ‘til later on tonight. No, she half-frowned half-smiled, I meant you should come to the party tonight. She had blonde hair and golden eyebrows. I sighed then told her that I shouldn’t. I’m already in love. She swung her handbag and it hit me on the left shoulder as she asked, well… where is she? I looked around and said, I do not know. I’m still waiting

I checked my phone and she hadn’t rung so I decided to go back down the hill home. She was two and three quarters hours late so I figured she had stood me up again. I couldn’t believe I had waited that long. At home, I pushed the wheelchair to my room and transferred onto the bed. I pulled the jeans I was wearing off and put on a pair of tracksuit pants. I’d learned the hard way that the seam in a pair of jeans creates a pressure-area at the top of the bum-crack (sacrum). I sighed as I leaned down and un-Velcro-d the orthotics. I pulled them off and wondered if I still had time to go to the gym. I slipped them into my trainer’s and put both of them on my feet. I threw the shirt I was wearing into the basket and slipped on a singlet

Why does love hurts so much? She tried to kiss me one night to make me fall in love with love with her and it had worked. She was only feeling desperate and saw me as her last chance. I once wrote that she dripped the blood from a still-live chicken over me. That was for dramatic purposes. I actually woke to find her hyperventilating with her eyes closed and her arms flailing. I could just hear her chanting – love me, love me, love me… She told me once that she would be mine if she couldn’t find anybody better. I saw the positive in her negative. That is a woman’s dirty trick

Not wanting to annoy her I didn’t call to see where she was. I am desperate to kiss and touch her but I have been placed with the ordinary people, sorry below ordinary, so now had to wait for her. I pushed into the kitchen to grab some water from the fridge when I saw the beer bottles. Fuck the gym. I drank the first in one swallow. I had purposely drunk less liquid during the day to avoid the embarrassment of having a urinary drainage bag bulging out the side of my pants. I have learned so many lessons the hard way. I decided that she wasn’t coming so I opened the second. The second was gone in two – gulp

The leg-bag was filling slowly. I pulled my pants down and saw more blood. I am getting used (I will never get used to) to having to piss into a bag. After the last operation to stop me wetting myself I had regained a sense of decorum and can now look people in the eye. I have lived hoping that I would be one day be healthy enough to stop having to use a supra pubic catheter. Those dreams have been squashed. I have woken up to the fact that I am too disabled for a normal woman. I now know she will have to be special. I thought I might had met her but the three-strike rule has been shortened

I have been humbled to the point of not knowing myself. I never knew what the rest of the population had to do to date. Being in a wheelchair has changed everything. People tell me that dating is harder these days but I never really dated anybody as an adult. I always went straight to sex. Since I’ve been in a wheelchair absolutely everything has changed and it has nothing to do with the political climate or the social norm. Nobody loves like the loveless

I was in the kitchen thinking about the third beer when the intercom rang. Shit. She actually came. Feeling a bit drunk I pushed the button then went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I didn’t have enough time to change back so I drank some more water and sprayed myself with deodorant. I emptied the urine out of the leg-bag, closed it then used a bit of toilet paper to dry the inside of the tube. The bowl was full of red. I flushed then washed my hands and smiled at myself in the mirror. She didn’t come to my door so I went to her

I pushed the chair into the garage and saw her standing in front of her car smiling. She looked trendy and happy to see me so I pushed up to her. She leaned down and kissed me on both cheeks when I wanted to kiss her on the lips -all of her talk-. I thought we were having a date. I had always wanted to kiss her. I was happy to see her happy to see me but disappointed that there would be nothing. It was too dry to be considered a date. I told her we should go locally in Bondi since she was late. She said no. She said that she would take me to a restaurant that her father supplied meat to

I pushed my chair to the passenger door, opened it and transferred inside. I started taking the wheels off the wheelchair when she hopped in the driver’s side and her door slammed as she got back in. I leaned the wheels on the open door and removed the cushion. I folded the backrest down as she started the car. I’d forgotten to ask her to help me. Fear. A car going down the street tooted and it snapped me out of it. I didn’t know what to say or do so I placed the cushion on the frame and put my legs outside her car and tried to stand up. What are you doing, she asked? I told her that I was going to try to put the wheelchair in the back of her car. No, I’m sorry, she said as she switched it off and got back out, I forgot. Sit down and I’ll do it. There were no words for me. I sat down. She did not know. I said, no I’m sorry, again and I was. She picked up the chair and I put my arm through the opened back door to help. It was definitely like no date

Am I ready to date anyway? We got to the restaurant and sat down (I was already sitting – she sat down). I had felt bad that I was so casually dressed until I saw that nobody there was dressed well. There were two men sitting at the table next to ours talking loudly. I turned up the volume on the hearing aid. We each ordered a bottle of cider and talked. She didn’t want to kiss me but she wanted to talk to me so I let her. I couldn’t hear her what she was saying but was able to ask questions. I asked her all about her life while feeling jealous that I wasn’t a part of it. Only one of my friends thinks she is hot but that doesn’t matter. Beautiful starts inside. She talked and I laughed and it felt like a friendship. I wondered if there would be anything I could say or do to make her love me but I knew that there wasn’t so I stopped. I had already been emasculated

I want you to try some of my father’s meat, she yelled. She ordered the dinner for both of us in her language and I waited. I kept asking her questions. I drank my drink slowly as I hadn’t seen a wheelchair accessible bathroom. Four small dishes arrived on the table. I waited for her to start eating. She grabbed a bread-and-butter plate and started putting bits on it so I followed her. It all smelt gamy and spicy. There was a dish with little bits of crimson meat so I started filling my plate with it and started eating. It tasted mustier than it had smelled and was very chewy. Every one of the plates had a different kind of meat on it and I tried them all. I kept asking her questions but couldn’t hear what she was saying. It didn’t matter anyway. We were not going to fuck

What is the point of going out with a woman you are not going to fuck? No, no I didn’t mean it like that I meant, what is the point of going out with a woman who doesn’t want you when you want her? It feels like cutting your finger to catch a shark. I pulled out the pen I keep in the bag on my chair and wrote on the bottom of the napkin, what a dirty trick; your shit stinks. She asked what I wrote as I folded the napkin and put in my pocket. Nothing, I said, what were we talking about? I enjoy talking with women but the heat of my lust was being extinguished by her apathy and sent steam from my crotch. The room quietened and I heard her ask me if I was seeing anybody? This was not a date for her. Shit. I shook my head while wondering what I was doing there. I looked at her mouth and she showed me her teeth. She had once told me that she would like to have my blonde baby. The truth is that her genes are too strong and she will always be. The last card belongs to the dealer

The loud men left and I could hear my mind again. A friend of mine had warned me. They told me the age-gap was too great. They said it would be good until I started to age and the disparity appeared. I trust and cherish my friend’s opinion but I felt that love, my love, our (love?) love would be too strong to be tarnished. It felt real. Another friend had warned me about her race, Nepalese. Sitting at the table I started to realise all of the reasons why she did not want to kiss me. The musty taste in my mouth was starting to make me feel sick. I leaned in and asked her, what were those little purple things? She said that they were kidneys from a goat. I coughed and asked, what? She told me everything we had eaten tonight had been from the intestines of a goat. I drank some cider and tried to switch my mind off

Getting back in the car on the way home we both forgot about my wheelchair again. My God. I felt like such a fool. I’d forgotten to ask her to help me in advance. It was my fault to expect. She got in the driver’s seat and started the car. I wondered if she had really forgotten that the wheelchair wasn’t a part of my condition or was trying to teach me some of her manners. She is beautiful but not to me. I had to ask her again and once again she said sorry. As she came to the passenger side I felt so sorry for her. I placed both legs out the car and turned to help her place the wheelchair on the back seat. As I turned I felt them go. Once the chair was in place I bent down and picked up my testicles and put them in the right pocket of my tracksuit pants. One had rolled to the left and one had rolled to the right but I had found them both

She dropped me back at the front of my house and drove away. She had tricked my -me with – love. A car tooted as it drove past me and I turned and saw the blonde woman walking up to me again. Her friends had gone. She blushed as she saw me. She walked up to me on wobblier heels. I knew it and she knew it. The universe was made for us. She smiled at me like id already fucked her. She walked up to me like we had been together a hundred years. I’m still going to the party she slurred. I considered the odds of meeting a sober woman who actually wants me physically. My smile widened on the right. Her cheeks were rosy and she blushed harder. Look what I found, I exclaimed as I reached into my pocket and opened my hand. They still look pretty good, she chirped. I think I can still use them, I said, I feel like coming now. You should…. she said, you should still come. I pulled out the empty ball-bag and started putting them back in. She saw my dick was still there and said, nice. I’d heard an accent so asked her where she was from?


There is some truth to this story but the fiction is better. I still love her (I actually don’t but it sounds bittersweet-you know better for writing) but I don’t know why. I picked up my phone and text a friend in NZ. I smiled as I told them that I felt too old to go on a date that did not end with my balls in her mouth. They text back that it was a shame I didn’t get to suck her intestines out. I laughed as another friend text me. They asked how it went? I text back that there was no consummation, I should have stayed home and tugged myself. Somebody once tried to warn me away from her by telling me that her pussy would smell like a curry. I will never find out. Her pussy is too close to her arsehole. I can only smell her shit from here


Andrew Stuart Buchanan