“Tonight I Have Been Your Guest Asshologist” (Prose)

Four coworkers in formal clothing gathered around office cubicles and equipment

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com or Martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Let me talk of High School-like ultra aloofness’ in old people.

It is a strikingly weird phenomenon despite its dime-a-dozen-ness.

You remember in High School those “ultra aloof” kids?

They did this to falsely boost their image to be seen as “cool”.

Of course this works well in High School.

That’s why it is a ‘go to strategy’ of the juveniles everywhere.

However here’s the weird thing –

I have noticed that there are many old people still doing it.

They’re thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty and still using the High School ‘Ultra Aloof Strategy’.

This is just sad.

It is backward in the extreme.

You cannot get away with this with semi-well adjusted adults.

It surely can only work with the juvenile or the intellectually sub-normal adult.

You see the logic of the practitioner is this:

In high school because of the natural immaturity – you can steal respect via the ‘ultra aloof strategy’ –

conversely for an old person to get respect – you have to back it up with something you can do very well.

You can’t just f*cking try to steal it via treating people like sh*t via the use of U.A.S.

Yet so many ‘so called adults’ these days are doing this while being mediocre in everything they do.

It is like a modern disease, I think.

The practitioners of U.A.S are stuck in their low brow High School personas forever.

They’ll give you no polite human-to-human cordial respect whatsoever.

No eye contact or very little.

You’ll ask them how they are – they give a curt “fine’.

They walk with a false swagger in their gait.

Desperately engaging in the continual cover up – basically that they suck.

They were at their peak in the social hierarchy as sixteen year olds,

And they’re gonna pigheadedly refuse to look facts in the face,

And pathetically keep wielding out the U.A.S strategy till death calls them.

Meanwhile we still have to deal with these types in the workplaces & behind service counters –

And if we are particularly unwise or naive of course they may be in our very homes.

We as victims are forced to be their ‘quasi high school nerd placeholder entity’ that is the other side of the U.A.S. equation.

Assholes always need a victim – it’s like the law of gravity.

Oh isn’t it hard to live in a world of these types.

You’d think evolution would have weeded them out by now.

But then again maybe we are the weird ones ruining their eternal ‘cool group high school party’.

Perhaps it is us who try to improve ourselves, do the interesting, and are decent that are the problem.

It is we shouldn’t be trying to improve Hell while we are on Earth.

That to them is a big no-no.

This is why we are being punished.

How dare we hold them to account?

This is really how they think.

It’s an admixture of stupidity and arrogance.

So there’s really no way you can change these types.

You just gotta let them burn freely and then write of their ironically high-flying flames.

It’s always good to get thoughts of these things out of the system.

Write it all down son, write it all down – it’s great therapy after all.

Lest one day you forget the disease dubbed “U.A.S” is there in this godforsaken joint at all.

From there it’s just a short hop-skip-jump to then start acting that way yourself.

You will come down with an acute case of U.A.S.

And then ‘Hell on Earth’ has yet another win under its belt.

This is why being self-aware is so vital.

For in life there are three types of garden variety asshole –

Two ‘should not be’ & the other is ‘allowable to a degree’.

One variety is the asshole that never truly knows that they are one.

The second does but is engaged in an extensive prolonged cover up.

The third are assholes, know they are, and don’t deny it at all – they often even warn you.

Obviasly this third kind of asshole we can probably live with best.

Note: the persons I write of – suffering with U.A.S – in this prose are a subset of the second variety.

They are so much worse than the first kind – don’t you think?

Oh this matter has been such a fun journey to talk about!

I really must read up on all the literature on assholes.

And oh what it would be to have a P.H.D. in Asshology!

There I have created a great new term – Assholology.

I can’t wait to call myself “The Worlds More Foremost Assholologist” –

But then again I don’t really need to –

After all – I am already a Writer (very little known – but I still am one).

And incidentally the good ones of us writers are mostly of the ‘third variety of asshole’ –

“We know we are and we will warn you”.

So at least we will never lower ourselves to use U.A.S tactics.

Even two-bit writers at least try to throw some light on this harsh asshole-loving-world.

And surely some of us will in some distant hazy day,

Fully accept the probably unofficial title of Associate Asholologist.

Or am I – as is my prerogative – simply delving into the realms of fantasy again?

Maybe…..maybe.

To put it more plainly – perhaps I am just a guy talking shite about assholes –

Which although sounds like a match made made in heaven –

Certainly should never have been done in the first place.

I apologise – if only I had known what I would write before I wrote it,

I would have never begun.

These are always the risks of these ‘stream on consciousness writings’.

Time to quit while I’m behind.

And as I am (as I am a writer) the ‘third kind of asshole’ I must duly warn you this will happen again.

But I ask you dear reader – perhaps I’ve made some good points no?

For is it not true that those old high school jerks with U.A.S. annoy the feck out of us?

Though we must never admit that to their faces of course.

Thank you my audience for your patience in this odd literary perambulation –

I had better stop lest it indeed become a peregrination.

As my great grandpappy could have said but didn’t

“You can – metaphorically speaking – perambulate about the various assholes of the world –

but don’t dare in your exasperations let it transmogrify into a peregrination”.

Wise words?

Even if I do say so myself?

Maybe…..maybe.

Update: “The Neurotypicals Vs Us” has been updated (an Update)

Wooden letters spell “AN IDEA” and “FRIENDS” on an artist’s workbench

Hi friends….

Please ne advised….

The prose formally called “The Neurotypicals Vs Us” has been greatly expanded.

Read the updated version here.

I think you will now provide it more thought provoking than before.

CLICK LINK BELOW TO READ

https://antonmartinsmith.com/2026/09/13/lemony-faced-neurotypicals-vs-us-a-poem/

A.M.S 14/09/2026

This ‘War Cry for Us Neurodivergents’ has been Updated! (A Note).

Open notebook reading “Are we at War?” beside coffee cup and pen

Yes – I just thought I would say that I have added a new intro and a new ending piece. I’ve worked on this over three sittings. it is now 1800 words long. What can I say? I had to let out some frustration about this neurotypical world we live in. By the numbers we really live in a world made for the Neurotypicals that only see the world in a surface manner – with non -neurotypicals to be feared and rallied against. They call us ‘weirdos’ whether we are at school or aging in the millions of neurotypical workplace havens. Anyway – I hope someone reads it and gets something out of it. Maybe we are in a War. It certainly feels like it to me.

Housekeeping Update: I have added a narration in my own voice (A Blog Post).

Startled man vacuuming a cluttered study scattered with papers and bottles

So I finally got around to it – I’ve recorded my voice reading of one of my posts.

The post in question? It’s the recent one about how much a curse it is to have brains in this world.

I have posted the mp3 file here and the link to the original post.

I could only be bothered doing two read throughs – so I do flub a couple of lines.

It’s very hard to read for ten minutes without making a single mistake.

But I ain’t gonna spend forever doing narrations.

Anywho here are the links:

I hope you enjoy.

In theory it should probably be edited more.

“I’ve Bin Busy” (An Update – Blog Post)

Colorful books arranged in geometric patterns on a wooden dining table

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmith@gmail.com or martinantonsmith@gmail.com

QUICK (WordPress AI GENERATED) SUMMARY: In his recent update, Anton shares his busy week involving home renovations, guitar playing, and writing a serialized story on alternative history. He reflects on struggles with music theory and cleaning up after DIY projects while expressing gratitude for his growing audience, especially in the U.S. Amid challenges, he appreciates creativity and companionship, including his cat, Squeeky.

Now the 100% Human (I guess I am human)written Blog Starts Here:

Hi all.

Well what have I been doing? Well I’ve bin busy! I’ve covered a lot of bases this week. I’ve hd my usual domestic tasks of trying to do the basics well – home cooked meals, getting to the supermarket, working on my home reno project. Over and above the basics I’ve got the old electric guitar out again (recently I pulled it out after not playing for two years). Let me talk of electric guitars.

So I know i have a problem with playing guitar – long ago I got to the point where I learnt the basics, well SOME of them. I know what’s in key or not BUT I still can’t play bar chords. The problem is a guitar is not designed very well to ply bar chords. My fingers don’t like them. So I can only play the powers cords, notes AND the basic chords on fret one and two. I don’t really have any appreciation for the I iii IV chord sequence etc. You see the problem with music theory is you hi the HARD PART and then it’s a grind. I started guitar too late. It is what is is. So my history has been 1) Bad cover versions 2) Writing bad half good guitar tracks. So really I simply jangle about for fun – I like to play some overdrive riffs, then I add a few notes. It is what it is. Maybe one day I’ll be bothered to learn guitar properly. You can’t win ’em all. Maybe I just don’t like how to be a good musician you have to ignore all other parts of life – and I like to do lots of different things. Ok enough about that.

What else – well I’ve been working on my reno project – this week I painted some tired looking wooden storage racks. It IS amazing what a lick of paint does. It’s boring so I’ll stop talking about that.

I also am trying to deep clean all the “Gib Dust” (i.e. powdered plaster) that has gone through my room because I decided to do my own ceiling replacement job. I did th “Joint Plastering” and “Drywalling” myself. We calling it Gib-Fixing and Gib Stopping in NZ/Oz. The fine particles are everywhere. I’m bad at cleaning at the best of times. Did I mention I was also sleeping in the room while I did the job? That’s a tricky process where you try to live in one half on the room while you work on the other, with a canvas sheet sectioning off the messy dusty area from the living/sleping area. It only half works. The dust seeps through. Ok enough about that.

On a writing front I’ve came up with a new idea for a serialized story. It’s what might be called ‘alt-historic political fiction’. i.e it’s half based on real life and characters but half not. So the half true part is Thatcher and English Politics and society in the mid nineteen eighties. With these things you come up with the story as you write it. Actually I wrote part 1 a week ago and then went back tonight to finish and improve/add to it. I’ll post the link here:

Anyway I’ve tried to be humorous with a nod to reality as well. Not much point in banging on about it. Go read it (I’m beggin of you!). I plan to record it as a voice file in my own voice – give me a few days for that.

Outside that – the site is going well. You Americans seem to like my stuff. That’s awesome! Say what you like about the Americans – they are great supporters or the arts which includes writing (of course!). American traffic is actually 6X as much as the next country – NZ (my home country). Weirdly Australia doesn’t like me – but I’m not so surprised – I don’t thing they are massive readers per capita (but I might be wrong). Of course my site is tiny overall. I should probably be on Substack – maybe one day (I actually do have an unused account). Anyway – thanks to you Yanks! Maybe it’s just because I mention Bukowski all the time? He was very good after all a great feather ruffler!

Other that that I’m just trying to survive. This is not easy these days. Especially in small town NZ. Especially since you can’t work in a offices anymore and you find working with others too toxic. Oh well – maybe I’ll get more handyman/garden work this season. So long as I don’t die under a bridge I guess. At least I’ve made it to age forty-eight this August. Almost fifty. Man time is being eaten up like some giant bookworm might eat up entire chapters of Buk’s ‘Ham On Rye’ every five seconds or so. I always lament how hard it is to just survive in NZ. In my more black minded moment I think it’s like we never made it out of the ‘Great Depression’ of the nineteen-thirties…..well perhaps it’s not that bad…we did boom in the fifties…maybe we’ve never got out of the ‘oil shock era’ of the mid nineteen-seventies. That’s fifty years of eating mince on toast. Oh well thank god I’m a quasi-bohemian who doesn’t need a fancy Maserati and trips to the South of France. My mind can conjour up enough fantasies and ideas of various types I guess. I just wish I had more people do have conversations about ideas and the world with. Oh well at least the internet is here to (potentially) reach billions.

Anyway that’s covered a few bases. I’ll update you more later! Good luck on your creative pursuits and the books/writing you are reading.

Oh I should mention my cat ‘Squeeky’ is well. Cats are great little furry things. They are like real life angels looking over us – are they not? Except when they are ‘hangry’ of course.

Take Care All!

Anton Martin Smith Sat 22 Aug 2026 11:48Pm

It’s my birthday. I am forty-eight today. I worked like it was a normal day… (A blog post)

Man sitting on a bench holding a drink with flying books in the sky at sunset

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmith@gmail.com or martinantonsmith@gmail.com (email me!)

So yes it’s my birthday. Forty eight. I celebrated by deciding to not celebrate. It’s now a firm tradition of mine. I’ve been doing it for decades.

Is it because I am a Gen X’er? I say that because the stereotype is we don’t care about anything. Is it because I am ‘South Island kiwi? I say that because we have this Scottish Presbyterian/Calvinist cultural hangover which says you can’t be seen to enjoy yourself. Is it because deep down I don’t think I’m worthy enough to celebrate my entry into this (seemingly wildly degenerating) mortal coil?

The answer is I don’t know why I couldn’t care less about my birthday. Other than to worry about my ‘life as I age’ a little more – as now I am almost half a century old. The ‘distant horizon of the end’, having been priorly an academic thought, is now appearing in sight – it is now a farway hill I can see instead a mountaintop in the distant hazy horizon. And we all no matter how ‘Zen’ we think are, think of our achievements in some manner at least. I would be lying if I do not have worry about the charge of “he was such a promising youngster – but he hasn’t really lived up to his potential” factor. Of course I don’t care about the fact I’m not a big CEO or a Lawyer – I’m not that stupid to see those empty ‘TV style’ manufactured wants. But of course, I do want to have exhibited my natural and worked-on creative talents. That’s called being human.

I wouldn’t say that I’m in any danger of a ‘midlife crisis’ – weirdly I kinda had that early at about age thirty-five-ish. It’s really just normal aging worries that someone like me has, I am sure. And by ‘someone like me’ – I guess I mean someone who is bookish, prone to be an over-thinker, undiagnosed ADHD (maybe I am but that could be a boldface lie!), and a man without much hard cash at the moment. This is because I’ve made a commitment to the liberal arts AND I’m in small business. So really I shouldn’t worry to much about pushing fifty – and I don’t really look fifty anyway – I could easily pass for forty. In theory I could go anywhere and suddenly ‘reinvent myself’ – but I’m too wise to try that folly again.

In the end ultimately, I think I feel “ok”. This is in terms of ‘day-to-day mental headspace’ speaking. And today being “ok” is actually as rare as hens teeth. To feel “ok” is relatively like being on ‘cloud 9.’ After all most people have terrible uncreative cubicle lives, have done no shadow work whatsoever, and are medicated up to their eyeballs. I had a taste of that a long time ago ( the anti-depressants scam where the quacks dished them out like candy) and I eventually escaped that prison although in truth it was probably the handmaiden called burnout that had the key that unlocked me from all that silliness.

In terms of psychology – I am far more content that I used to be when I was younger. I have learnt slowly as the years rolled by to wangle a weird solution to feelings of ‘chronic depression or anxiety’ – and I think it’s fair to say I have always had those feelings, but it might have been anxiety more than depression perhaps (it’s hard to say). The wangle was physical work, homecooked meals & living in the country – my boyhood home town of six thousand people. Well it was also learning not to tie your self worth too much to social status. That’s important.

Physical work is great for the mind – especially if you are prone to the blues. But ideally you don’t want too much of it all at once. After all who that is over forty wants seven or eight hours hard labor a day for four or five days? No I think anywhere between ten twenty five hours is good, and the sweet spot is probably right in the middle – seventeen and a half hours. If you are young, well blast ahead with physicality.

Physical work is like a battle. Yes it can be very boring and uncomfortable. But some is office keyboard placking. For example I am now doing a sub-part of a renovation job (a ‘reno’). I am what we call here in NZ “Gib-Stopping” which I guess the Americans would call “Drywall plastering” and the English “Joint Plastering” (I think the Aussies also call it ‘Gib-Stopping’).

Let me tell more. When you slap on the plaster, it’s sloppy-messy and gets all over your clothes. I actually had a blob go right in my eye at the beginning when I forgot to put on my protective eyewear. Then after you have slopped on the plaster over the joints the next part is even worse – you have to sand it down smooth and flush with the Gib / Drywall/ Plaster sheeting. The dust is so bad you end up standing in something akin to the ‘First World War mustard gas attacks’. You can do all the things to protect yourself – but you can’t really escape the fact you are a in gib-dust (drywall or plaster) battle. Life is a bit like that – don’t kid yourself you are not in some kind of battle here.

Ok now – so you know how bad that ‘Gib Stopping’ job I’ve been doing is – let me tell you why it’s also good for you. At the end of the work day you intimately feel that you have become mentally (and physically) stronger. You see with your own eyes that you’ve made progress on the bigger project (in my case the ceiling looks better and better). And you probably did it all by yourself too. You didn’t know how to do it and you backed yourself. That’s a great anti-depressant. You don’t get that in an office cubical in a mega city – you don’t have that creative freedom (Like Melbourne where I worked in an office for a decade).

So that’s why physical work is good for me and my tendency towards depressiveness and/or anxiety (or is it just adhd mixed with perfectionism etc?). I really recommend it to you who is reading this – especially if you exist in a ‘grey concrete jungle cubical zone’.

And if you are reading this – then you probably love writing or are a writer or an artist or work in an office (statistically you are likely given that’s where most the jobs are nowadays). And if you are someone like the last sentence describes – then you probably have anxiety or depressiveness or creeping feelings of helplessness lurking around. And if that’s true, what was good for me will also be good for you.

So remember to get out and dig some holes, plant some veges, run to the beach or lake or over the hill, jump on you bike etc. If your deep in the concrete jungle cubical zones I’d exercise about ten hours a day in nice outdoors setting.

So I’ll lave it there, now seems like a good place to end. I can now have a sneaky treat (these are great as anti-depressants too). In my case it’s some beer. I don’t over drink – I simply have two a night, which sometimes I upgrade to three, and once in a blur moon I might go crazy and have four. But that’s rare as I can’t do hangovers these days at my age. That’s the good thing about aging – it forces you to be more mature on a lot of things that you used to go totally nuts on.

‘Birthday Beer’ I will now come to you. I hope you are nicely almost near zero degrees centigrade (That’s 32 degrees F for the yanks),. You will be frosty delicious from your time spent in that freezer prison I put you in. I’m sorry I have to drink you – but it must be done. Wait a minute I’m sounding too much like an alcoholic – I better finally shut up now.

So happy birthday to me – you old coot. You ain’t as bad as you probably think you are or used to be. You’ve come a long way. You’ve ignored the noise and built your mind up. Your feeling ‘ok’ and that’s better than it sounds.

See you on the next blog update.

Bye!

Anton Martin Smith on 7th August 2026 8:03PM NZ Time.

Update about a recent Post (an update)

Colorful text reading 'An Update!' surrounded by stars, swirls, and sparkles

Please be advised I have greatly improved the post that was called “The Poet’s Daily Drop: A Revolutionary Ale?” – it has been renamed the “The Revolutionary Speech That Wasn’t” click below. The prior piece was very unfinished and the new version is far better – even if I do say so myself (flagrant self promotion is in these days ain’t it?).

An update from me (Am I’m still going mad – or just healthily child-like?) – (A Blog Post)

Woman holding her head in frustration at cluttered desk with laptop and papers at night

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmith@gmail.com

Well of course I’m going mad – if you ask an accountant that is. Anyone who actively engages in the arts and/or writing (or any high creative endeavor) will be seen as varying shades of ‘insane’. I mean what could be more normal than creativity? I mean is it not what every single person did when they were a child?

At what point does the stuffy office boring twat say to himself

“oh no I can’t be creative anymore, I’ve got to be an adult and sacrifice my life to office-o the destroyer – it’s the only mature thing to do. I’ll never touch a crayon, an artistic paint brush or some Das branded clay ever again – oh and I also need a real mean cold hearted bitch to marry and act as my career advisor too…by the way where’s the Financial Times gone….I was reading the Nasdaq share lists the bog a second ago”.

You see people are hoodwinked into stopping doing the things they enjoyed as children and teenagers under the guise of ‘being mature’. Of course it’s all a scam to sell mortgages, golf clubs, audi’s and a whole cacophony of stupid shiny things. But I don’t need to tell you that. You’re very smart. You’re here reading this blog/website in the first place.

So anyway – perhaps this is why when people get to fifty odd, they wake up to the scam and start to draw or ride ponies or go go carting again. I can only applaud that.

Sure I’m not saying “All us artists are the salt of the Earth for being forever child-like” – the NPC does have a slither of truth behind him in that most garden variety lifelong artists are often far too immature/imbalanced. You see there is a difference between being ‘healthily child like’ and ‘immature’. One sign that a artist/writer has the balance right is that they respect their art forms. They actively respect the knowledge, the craft and the novice to journeyman to master process. I’m trying to do that with my writing.

I would say I’ve been a lover of books and storytelling my whole life. I love words, I wish I did know more of the rarer ones – I think it’s wise for serious writers to be able to use some of the great unused words – at least here and there. There’s nothing snobby about that.

Take a word like ‘peregrinations’ – which I believe is a ‘long meandering walk of leisure, or period of wandering, often in foreign lands or by foot’. It’s great to use a word like that here and there – not for flash but to illustrate a point, describe a character etc.

Take another word – “inter alia” meaning among other things – another self evident great word.

Let’s go another -“exigency” means essentially ‘the urgent realistic requirements of a matter mean this also needs to be done or happen’. e.g. ‘The exigencies of buying shoes while barefoot means you will also need to buy socks’.

Anyway – perhaps I have stumbled on a great new idea for a regular post-segment: “let’s all learn new words”.

Anyway I’m glad that in my bloggy metaphorical peregrinations regarding ‘childlike creativity vs immaturity’ that I may have discovered a new blog-segment, inter alia, namely the urgent use of a word like exigency.

And now I have to fly – have a great week.

Thanks to all those that read my stuff, eh.

Anton M. Smith (as usual late at night when the brain fires up reeeeal gooood).

P.s. I’ve been watching Rik Mayal’s short-lived 2002 comedy ‘Don’t Believe It’ – It’s not bad. Also the great ‘In Betweeners’ from not long after. I have always loved English comedy – I’m trying to think what the last great English comedy was? I’m thinking it was The Office – but surely there’s been something else since then? Hmmm

P.P.s I finally finished the rough draft my latest long form work (Novella) – It’s called ‘Bouncing Through The Wringer’ – it’s on the site go search for it. I’m pretty happy with it. I probably should be hiding it but something about me says not too.

“The De-Transmogrification Process (Went Swimmingly)” (Prose/Essay) + Bonus Material

Silhouette of person standing on ruined building amidst twisted skyscrapers under stormy sky

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmith@gmail.com or martinantonsmith@gmail.com

To transmogrify means to transform in an often strange, surprising, scary or grotesque way.

I think when a small town person grows up and goes to the big gnarly city to ‘make it’, they tend to transmogify.

It cannot not happen.

After all, a giant gnarley city is usually strange, surprising scary and grotesque.

Of course I am not saying small towns are heaven.

You get cornered into selling yourself to the big gnarly city.

It’s about Jobs, the need to make enough money…and usually a side of debauchery.

When I was young I was quite miserable.

I didn’t learn how to know how to be happy until perhaps 37.

When the big gnarly city has spit me out like a annoying chicken bone.

This is all not abnormal – that is to be miserable by default & to be spat out like city trash.

Of course a big gnarly city will spit out many a small town kid all grown up.

Again – this is not anything new.

Children have no power and cannot usually choose to escape.

The kid who grows up with high trauma will internalize the misery that surrounds.

Deep into their nervous systems and psyhe’s.

And by default all kids like this -we all soon transmogrify into degrees of ‘broken adults’.

I’ve talked about my trauma before so I will not rehash other than three epitets:

Poor, Neurodivergent, Child of Divorce, my father a magician (i.e. disappeared).

Now I am for many an ‘older man’ – but by now I’ve learnt like others do – to to ‘steal happiness’.

It’s not really happiness per se,

It’s really a rolling feeling of semi-wellbeing,

Because I’ve learnt to curb the most destructive habits:

Being too drunk too often,

Being around too many assholes in big cities & offices and bars.

And I’ve learnt about a few easy cheats:

Eating home cooked meals,

Having creative hobbies that could sprout into something bigger – e.g. writing.

Learning that it’s ok to say no to something.

Getting some regular hard physical labor under your belt.

And also remembering about ’embracing the inner child’.

And post apocalypse – I think the writing & the hard labor may have saved me entirely.

I’m purely speculating here, but you never know –

If I’d never started the hard labor and the writing –

And was spat out into the gutters of the big gnarly city

Perhaps I wouldn’t even be here now.

If your life’s over in a big city – it’s never wise to stay.

You will likely become a zombie of the city.

Yes in my younger, darker, big city days I have known deep despair.

If I had not died and been essentially reborn and exiled at 38 – who knows where I’d be.

But I doubt I would have ever died by my own hand.

Maybe I would have suddenly became just another a big ego driven depressed ‘success story’ in the bright lights –

MAYBE.

But I think I was one of those people that had to be essentially destroyed in order to ‘get better’.

The weird thing about my ‘Big City era, was I was within a couple of steps to some ‘city success’.

But something inside me warned me off opening that door.

It’s just as well as I was taken out before that happened.

For I probably would have been just another semi-wealthy miserable bastard wearing a mask.

Transmogrified by the big gnarly city.

Now after the war has been over for well over a decade,

I get to sit quietly and reflect.

On how good it is to have a soul, quiet times and the occasional smile.

That’s where the wealth’s at my friend.

You know it, I know it, your cat knows it but your big city office crank boss doesn’t.

Of course I don’t want to sugarcoat – I’m probably still a old curmudgeon.

And Big Gnarley cities have their good people and places – yes.

It would be remiss of me to pretend that was not the case.

Today I do love a few cans of beer at night in the country quietness.

As I sit in solitude.

And why not? haven’t I earnt it?

That war is long over and the peace settlements have been signed.

I’m entitled to a beer with my thoughts as the country stars twinkle.

Yes – I have remnants of big gnarly city bastardry – and that’s ok.

A remnant and defeated psychological ghost army can’t do much harm anyway.

I really can recommend blowing up your horrid big city office life for the country air.

Of course if your lucky the city will push the controlled demolition button for you.

And they’ll save you well ahead of ‘natural time’.

And I realise all this as I sit with a beer breathing clear air.

Writing away happily.

Yes loneliness is real but I like to think of it as being ‘functionally lonely’.

I have memories of the War – but it is so long ago,

It’s edges are rounded off and some fuzzyness has emerged .

The Big Gnarley cities are expert propagandists and tricksters.

The old Roman Bread and Circuses till abound.

The Big Gnarly daily wars do allow its footsoldiers to get laid regularly.

Amongst all the other vices.

The Corporate-denizen-slave need something to forget their cubicle-screen-work-dystopias.

And I was no different to everyone.

It’s actually what the psychologists call mass psychosis.

This is why it’s far better to visit the madhouses than live in them.

Anyway this was my tale of how the ‘concrete jungles’ are well named.

For that’s exactly what they are.

I’m merely reminding people of the facts.

I’m a mere reporter just ‘tellin’ it how it is’.

Personally I’m happy I was spat out versus consumed and transmogrified into the abyss.

In writing and in life – you gotta call a spade a spade.

Your best audience will love you for it.

Who doesn’t love a good trauma-based, haphazard-but-believable, de-transmogrification tale?

Bonus Material: There is a related Essay on my sister site – see the link below.

https://martinantonsmith.wordpress.com/2026/07/05/article-are-mega-cities-inherently-bad/

“If Sods Law Prevails – Do You Get Your Spade Out?”. (Prose /Pseudo-Blog)

Woman studying at a desk with laptop, books, notes, and drinks

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmith@gmail.com Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

It’s been a hard week. I am very tired.

But then again, compared to London slum -era workers circa 1875 – I’ve had it bloody easy.

To the accusation “We have become too soft” – I think it’s at the least partly true.

(But it’s now Sunday and in either case, I am either well rested or have stolen undue rest.)

This feeling I have is a ‘good tired’ though – because I achieved something real.

(I like to sound positive these days – I am older, wiser & realise ‘abject pessimism’ sabotages a life).

Yes I was disciplined throughout the week – the secret is to have a system and stick to it.

(But I still slept in like a ‘fat capitalist’ – but my system can handle sleeping in).

What did I do? I worked on carpentry, garden landscaping and writing & of it was ‘mine’.

(I’m a hybrid you see, am I a self employed working class pseudo genius? Yes I am).

May I be so bold to call Carpentry, Gardening & Writing the “grand trifecta”?

(And I did like to have a flutter in my youth – mainly horse racing until I realized it a swindlers vs losers game)

And now after all my great physical work, I am weary.

(This is true – excuse me while I yawn – of life?).

Or as The great Kiwi Cricketer Sir Richard Hadlee said in his autobiography “The Double”.

(I shouldn’t talk of Sports – but ol’ Paddles was a more of a phenomenon. For him I’ll make an exception)-

His mantra: “No I am not tired – I am just ‘pleasantly weary’ “

(That’s called using a ‘Jedi Mind Trick’ on yourself).

Yep so back to physical work – on the Carpentry side – the Gib flew up to the ceiling.

(Because I am strong as an Ox maaaaate – sorry for that, I am one quarter Australian),

And then (just like men do in society these days) it all got ‘heavily screwed’ .

(Just look down at any gutter and ask a bloke that now lives there – he will agree via his tears and screams).

back to the physical – On the garden side – I got a spade and dug some weeds away and replaced it with gravel.

(Now you’re getting excited aren’t you..you you creep…you…garden-o-phile you!).

To circle back – the weeds that were thrown away are analogous to what 3rd Wave Feminism has done to men.

(We will be spread on their toast soon – mark my words – ManJamTM?).

Then I did some writing – I worked on poems, & on editing one of my Novellas.

(It’s easier than you think – you just start writing once every couple of days & ‘hey presto’ it emerges).

Who knows one day something may come of all this sillyness.

(But I need to network more *sigh* – do I need a girlboss PR manager?).

I’m crossing my fingers that this is not all a collosal waste of my life’s time .

(Like working in an chicken-coop-office your whole life in Melbourne New York or Paris).

You never know, I could end up ‘making it at fifty’ like the great Buk.

(I’m talkin’ about Bukowski the – famous San Pedro ‘poet of the gutters’).

But I wonder who my ‘John Martin’ will be?

(John Martin – The owner of Black Sparrow Press who discovered Buk @ paid him $100 a month in 1970)

Stranger things can happen in life to people who show grit and have a system and stick to it,

(But not as strange as an ex forgiving you AND being female)

And rareness (a version of strengness) can sometimes not just come in the form of hens teeth

(I don’t have any yet – luck that is, yet ‘hens teeth’ I have plenty of, but don’t ask me why.) –

But (in life) sometimes it can be the ‘Black Swan’ (or Black Swan event) that speaks fluent cockney ‘rhyming slang’ to you

(ok here it comes – a tribute to my forgotten but in-my-DNA English heritage):

Chin up son, (Self explanitory)

’bout time we went down to the ‘battle cruiser’, (go the the pub – the ‘boozer’)

Down a Pig’s Ear, (Have a Beer)

Forget about the ol’ pain & strife, (Your wife or missus at home)

Forget our worries about the lorries, (That’s not Rhyming Slang I just added it for fun)

Chat up the a few Twist and Twirls, (Chat up the ‘girls at the pub’)

& the next day just take a Sherbet ‘ome (Sherbet is a Taxi).

AND NOW ITS TIME TO QUIT WHILE BEHIND.

THIS IS AFTER ALL SHAMELESS FILLER (well It was before I edited it)

YOU SHOULD HAVE NEVER READ IT (But now I’ve edited it you should).

IT WAS A TURD THAT I BARELY POLISHED (Well now it’s a half-polished turd at least)

Sorry to shout – now you good folk have a good day (after all, I have to bale before ‘mediocre’ turns to ‘unreadable’)

Sh*t! – surely somebody somewhere saw something seriously saliently strange?.

P.s. I bet this partial-filler (it was 100% filler until I felt guilty) will be liked much more than my best and most considered stuff.

As The English would say “Sods Law…Sods Law”.

(But what can you do? If ‘Sods Law’ prevails. All you can do is get your spade out).