“The Disease that Was Killed with a Slogan” (Prose)

I walk back from the place & see my neighbour.

They are Gen Z – about 23.

We’ve Been Neighbours since he was born.

I am a young Gen X – I’m 47.

I haven’t ever really said much to the young fella,

Probably because neighbors these days avoid each other in general.

But he knows I’m his neighbor & vice versa (of course).

Anyway, so I’m walking home.

He sees me from about thirty meters away he’s walking towards me.

And so he doesn’t have to interact with another human being,

He sells a dummy & pretends he’s going to the other direction.

But I’m on to him – he’s bad at executing.

As I walk pass him, not five meters later, he veers back to his original plan and direction.

Proof he’s gone out of his way to avoid me, because it obvious that a passing nod is all too much for him.

If this is the future of our species WE have no hope.

They try to avoid all stress – even the smallest tiniest piece of it.

Thinking more deeply about it, this is surely the behaviour of an endangered animal that is inevitably soon due for extinction.

Let me illustrate the point with a wildlife analogy.

If it was a nature doco about the small endangered ‘Furry Zwapzwap’ of Gonkswania,

The narrator would say:

Sadly the small furry Zwapzwap has become so reclusive over the last century, that it has given up entirely on the stress of communication at all, & is now mute. It is now unable to make it’s former muffled warbling sound. This also means it has tragically lost it’s mating call. It no longer reproduces at all, except by accident when one furry Zwapzwap falls over onto another member of the opposite sex. The Gonwanian Zwapzwap is so now shy it only ventures out when it has to eat, and only eats the minimum so to the reduce stress of being outside to long outside its safe warm underground burrow. Sadly, with all this lack of vitality, Furry Zwapzwap numbers have fallen dramatically to the point of-no-return where even a ‘massive accidental copulation event’ will not stop their total extinction by the year 2075.

The world needs to realise that the under 35 crowd- aka the species future hopes – are the f*cking weak afraid-of-livng furry Zwapzwaps that are breeding themselves and ‘future us out’ of existence.

And p.s. I don’t really care about us aging Gen X’s – we’ve done ‘the tour of duty’ – we’re allowed to start slowly fading away. It’s the Future that matters. No one should start fading away at age sixteen, twenty three, thirty one.

I think we need a new ‘Manhatten Project’ to stop all this ‘scaredie cat’ nonsense.

I’m not saying this is the best strategy option – but perhaps the following scheme easiest way to save future extinction:

Cheap Rent,

Cheap Alcohol,

Lots of late night shitty meat-market bars re-open,

A shitty but guaranteed job for every and any dopey schmuck loser.

I call this theory by a very interesting name:

“Roll back the Wowsering, Roll on the Partying”.

And I reckon you’d win an election with it as a slogan.

If I come up with a less based, more refined way to save us all – I’ll let you know.

But I have a sneaking suspicion there is none.

Hopefully by the time I am 125, I trust someone long ago with more energy than me will have read this prose as a young man or woman, & then championed my idea in the real world of high Politics.

And then perhaps all going well, I will be reading a History book of the Twenty First Century just ended that has a chapter called:

Roll back the Wowsering, Roll on the Partying: The Disease that Was Killed with a Slogan.

But if not we’ll certainly go the way of the Romans, which is sad but probably fitting – given that we are technically the last remnant of The Roman Empire anyway.

If this latter case is the case, I’ll be the last Human on earth age 125, casually reading a dirt-salvaged History book with the chapter:

No One Rolled back the Wowsering, No One Was Partying: And Isn’t It a Pity That We’re All Now Extinct

“Some last musings in the last moments of 2025” (A Blog post)

First some housekeeping – I have just greatly updated my last post – the link is here https://antonmartinsmith.com/2025/12/30/the-ex-high-school-nerds-coalition-prose/.

It’s a witty piece about the nerd/jock high school thing – from the aging nerds perspective. It’s as irreverent as possible…but I hope it strikes a chord to a few readers – it should do as I can only guess most people here as writers or readers were probably ‘nerds’ in high school (as I was).

Anyway go read it – I’m sure it’ll make you laugh, or cry – or maybe you’ll hate it…perhaps you will feel indifferent. Those are the only four options are they not?

In my writing it’s easy to have a bunch of neurosis. Of course I am currently a ‘nobody’ – so I don’t want to sound ‘preachy’ when I don’t have the write to, er I mean the right to. But my point is that I am thinking you need to not let the worries about what (disembodied not actually real) people might think (or be annoyed at) when you write.

In my mind there’s a too conservative middle class boring person who is tsk tsking – or a overly white liberal pretending to be offended. But I tend to ignore these neurosis & just write what I’m trying to tell. But the whiney ‘don’t do that’ super-ego parental cartoon character on the shoulder definitely makes themselves heard – they are just there outside your choice. I guess assuming you are not a psycopath you just need to learn to ignore that annoying shoulder tsk tsk’ing guy.

Maybe if I ever properly publish something I’ll get to know if those white liberal complainers will have a go at my stuff – maybe that’s when I know I’m not totally terrible.

Anyway on the writing in 2025 it’s been a good year on my WordPress site – now I have 75% more of ‘not very much’ traffic – so I should pop the cork of some fancy French wine (that I don’t have). Beer is my thing. Beer is a wonderful thing, especially now that I drink properly & no longer need ten in a row (ah I am so so mature these days, drinking like the Europeans!).

Anyway it’s now five mins to midnight, & being in NZ we get the New Year first – so It’s a good time to hit ‘publish’ for the last time in 2025.

Whoever reads this, now or in the distant dystopian future (I guess it could be a utopian future but I doubt it!) thankyou so much for the effort in listening to my ordinary tales of madness (nod to San Pedro’s finest ‘dirty old man’ – the late great Bukowski)!

See you in a few days (give or take) & happy reading (& possibly) writing!

Anton Matin Smith

“A Nice Moment At The Asian Eatery” (A Blog Post)

And so this was the last task to do. The annual greeting card giving. I usually only do one – & it goes to the ‘asian eatery’ (as I call it) – my regular hangout. I get a great personalised $20 deal – for this I am allowed a choice of 4 different items – Nasi Goreng / Sweet & Sour Pork / Works burger / Crispy Chicken. All options come with quality beer – I get Steinlager or Ashahi if its in stock. Nasi Goreng is the ‘go-to’ main. Anyway, I digress.

So I make the greeting card – I have water colors & ink etc. The final image is a ‘fat sunglasses-wearing Santa’ with his shirt off. It’s a ‘bang up’ (i.e. fast & mediocre) job, but at least it’s colorful. In one hand Santa has an opened beer bottle & the other is ‘Santa Sack (full of ‘prezzies’ – that is xmas presents). In a speech bubble Santa is saying that he is quiting while ‘on the job’ because he’d rather go to the ‘asian eatery’. At the bottom of the image there is a rat that has observed it all & says “Santa you lazy bastard”.

So that’s good – card done. I go to drop off the card in person. This card must be my seventh in a row by now (??). Tradition can hem you in – but that’s not usually a bad thing – for the result aimed at is usually the concept of ‘social cohesion’.

So fast forward ten mins & now I am in from of the owner with my card. Because of the language/cultural barrier the main owner lady (lets call her ‘Vicki’) needs me to explain it. I do so & the funny part is her joke that the ‘fat Santa’ is actually me. We have a little laugh. I can laugh at myself pretty freely these days, age helps on this matter.

While this card-giving is going on, I notice that a father & his daughter sitting at a restaurant table for two having food – they are Chinese as well. I have learnt that it is a tradition for travelling Chinese ethnicity folk to visit foreign Chinese restaurants. of course that’s only natural – we westerners like ‘ex-pats’ with burger bars in asia after all, do we not?.

I decide show the card to the little girl & she likes it. I introduce myself. The father is ‘Barry’ who is working at a major university here, visiting from China. His daughter is ‘Angelica’ (not their real names). The ‘asian eatery’ owner – Vicki has given me a box of chocolates (the usual gift in return for the card – that’s pretty nice profit for me! Surely those hand made cards of mine will never be valuable). I offer one chocolate to each both father & daughter – they oblige the small token. I offer another, but the Father who I presume is weight conscious, declines (he is rake thin & I joke that he could use fattening up).

So then some chit chat. Barry askes me a little about what I do & I explain my day job instead of my highest interests (writing, studying, reading, drawing etc), although I do slip in a past Melbourne life in Telecoms for good measure (I guess part of me doesn’t want him to think l I’m a total hick from the sticks’). I am a kiwi & we talk ourselves down – probably a very bad trait, but I now try to combat that a little as I go – after all it’s clearly wise to not hide all your talents.

The ‘convo’ (as the aussies say) is going well. The father – ‘Barry’ says I should visit China some time. I say I’d like to. I don’t mention the truth that my budget won’t allow it. After all now my life is simplified vs a decade ago, when I was a young-ish urban office worker & a semi-frequent international traveler. The polite hello is now at its natural end. We say our goodbyes. They leave to go back to their car to go back to their (temporary) normal lives in the nearby university town in Otago NZ. As they go I wonder if the mother is with them in NZ? I assume so given separation/divorce doesn’t really happen in Chinese culture (unlike it’s normality in the West). Perhaps she is back in China. After all, some people can’t travel at all. And as I’m older I’m more of a homebody that ever (but I am a ‘arty & write-ie’ type – we prefer to travel with mind vs legs).

So that interaction over I think of my stomach. A common trait. I could lose ten kg. I sit & start eating my heavily salted & sauced battered fish sans chips. I have a book on the table – poetry – an old NZ classic magazine Landfall. Landfall is known to be well past it’s heyday, but still has some good writing here & there. It has a crappy bookmark.

Lo & behold the little girl I was taking to with her father just before – Angelica comes back. She gives me a Chinese ornamental book-mark as a gift (the ones housed in plastic). I say thankyou ‘that’s great as I need a better bookmark’. I tell her it’s good to read (I’m sure her dad has this covered, but a little reinforcement can’t but help). The little girl has a real kindness to her. She has a little soft toy lamb in her arms & I ask her if it has a name – she says no, so I say ‘you could call it ‘Bleetie’ – by her slight confused look, I’m not sure if she understood the relevance of my suggestion to the sound a lamb makes. I said thankyou to Angelica & wished her goodbye.

As I put some soy sauce on on my battered fish. As I sat munching on tastiness, I thought that that was a really lovely thing that just happened. It warmed my sometimes too also ‘battered’ weary 47-year-olds heart more than a little. The Chinese in general are not perfect (like any ethnic group), but I admire that they try to be polite as much as possible. We’ve lost that too much in the West I think. They have a lot of other good traits too. They accept hard work with grace, unlike many of us now semi-dazed Westerners. We ourselves aren’t quite ‘down & out’ just yet though.

I hope Barry & Angelica have a good time in NZ. From what I’ve heard I know it’s still not entirely easy to be asian in NZ – especially in the small towns. I also hope the artificial intelligence Barry is working on doesn’t all put half the world out of work by 2030. But then my day job is shifting dirt, cutting lawns & banging nails (and a bit more than that) – so I figure I should be ok at least until age 62 in the year 2040. Who knows maybe I’ll be a proper ‘quirky, niche-partially-sought-after-by-humans, non-AI-cottage -industry-human-writer’ by 2032.

But I know that the future will be what it will be. But today was very ‘humanly nice’, you might say. You just need to string a few days like that in a row I think. It took me a while to learn that, but ‘better late than never’ as the old Western saying says.

I would also like to wish anyone who reads this a Merry Xmas & New Year!

Anton Martin Smith

The Men In the Mountains sketch by M.A. Smith 12.5cm x 17cm

“The Ballad Of Low Self Esteem” (A Poem)

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

Their was once a land far far away,

Full of people with gnarled, wrinkly faces – even the young.

A land of ‘downward trending’ smiles & lost tempers.

It was a sad place – for it never learnt how to do anything.

This was because the peoplesfolk had abjectly low self-esteem.

You couldn’t tell them anything, for they took it the wrong way – as a sleight.

Slowly they became more backward than they were the year before, & the year before that.

Some wag once said a very funny comment when pressed on the problem of the matter:

“Why would we change – for if we continue to be move backwards,

Eventually the worst that will happen is we will return to our starting point”.

Another one said:

“Sure we have low self esteem, nothing works, crimes up & our economies in the dustbin BUT”

And I said “But what” then they said

“But…But…imagine if we had too high self esteem – that would be worse as a society”.

I said “why is that”, to which they replied

“Well then we’ll get in over our heads won’t we” they said.

Then I said “what about the saying better to try & fail than never try at all”?

Flustered they then looked at their phone nervousy & said:

“No Sir it is better to not try at all & in the future tell of your wimpery to another wimp”

“Why’s that” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘Misery love company’ “?

“Yes I have” I said.

“Well I’d be too lonely if I was a go getter – I’ll stay miserable with lots of friends thanks”.

The weird thing is that after they said this, it was the most confidant I’d ever seen them look.

As they walked away with a swagger, I made a mental note to make sure I leave this town tomorrow.

They are all far to comfortable with their entrenched culture of low self-esteem.

After all – it is almost certainly just another undiscovered form of insanity.

Even if it is indeed as comfortable as they made out.

And I wonder if I’ll actually ever leave.

Perhaps I am one of them, & simply deluding myself to the contrary.

Sadly, this is not the first time I have wondered about this, & it won’t be the last.

This was ‘the ballad of low-self esteem’.

Out now, never-ending, & everywhere you look.

“If The Results Are Good” (A prose Poem)

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

A Gas-station coffee run it is.

“I’d like a flat white please”, I request.

“Do you wan’t sugar?”, she queries.

“No honey”, I say cheerily.

“If you keep talking like that you’ll get it served in your face!”

She is serious.

Her face is contorted, pained.

She’s in her 50s she has grey dreadlocked hair, a face lined by a share of hard times.

Up until that moment our customer to customer service relations had been friendly enough, perfunctory.

Aiming to quickly diffuse the moment I apologize.

“Oh sorry I didn’t mean anything by that, I didn’t mean to offend…I must be getting old”.

It seemingly half works – after all scolding hot coffee has not hit my face, has it not?

“Would you like a marshmallow?” She says in a as-per-standard-question way.

“No thanks” I say, wondering why she is offering marshmallows for a flat white.

She finishes & hands the coffee over.

I matter-of-factly pay, & leave to my awaiting vehicle which with my ‘ troublesome coffee’ in hand.

As I drive away wearing sunglasses, I glance in to see the counter area.

I’m ascertaining the body language after the unsavory event.

The other staff member that had witnessed it all is looking at me black faced – I take that as a minor win.

The one who served me is obscured.

As I post-mortum the situation – my internal narrative is of two strands:

One is self serving:

“Geez some people can’t control their emotions at all, why no sense of humor – especially in that role”

The other is of a negative bent:

“Oh no you’ve put your foot in it again – why did you say that you fool – ‘no honey’…Geez!“.

As I drive away to my home, I take a sip of the “troublesome coffee”.

I now know why she offered a marshmallow after I ordered.

The sweet taste is sickening.

It is very much a hot chocolate, & not a flat white.

So she has either intentionally or unintentionally punished me on the spot.

I do half a u-turn & then I think better of it & abandon the u-turn.

I’m again driving home.

I’m feeling a little mentally deflated about it all – not that it’s a big deal or anything.

When I enter my driveway I park & disembark & I suddenly perk up a notch.

“Ah…This is good writing material!” I have suddenly realized.

“Thank god I took up writing!” I say to myself with relief.

Writing really has added so many silver linings to the blackest of social thunderclouds that abound.

Of course the worry about this phenomena is that you will create drama in order to write about it.

I wonder – Am I already do this without knowing it?

the problem is of course. as they say – an old chestnut – but is it good or bad?

Well, I cannot categorically answer that – as the answer embodies a conflict of interest.

But as an imperfect, rough & contaminated answer I will say this:

If the results are good…

“Soldiers Of The Abyss (& how to best survive them)” (A Poem)

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

They’ve only ever followed orders – poorly so – in life’s institutions.

At School they were mediocre,

At the office they forced you do all their work,

While you slowly burnt out,

Punished for your ‘Voluntary Pseudo-Parentalism’.

They hate you because you helped them.

They must always ‘bite the hand that feeds’.

They hate that you can create – something impossible for them,

For they have ventured so far down into the abyss of ‘the banality zone’.

They could be 23, 38, 53 or about to retire at 64 –

It doesn’t matter because they cannot emotionally mature.

They the denizens of 21st Century offices everywhere are time warped.

They are the inner city everyman, whose ancestors were exactly the same through the ages.

They are the personification of the adage ‘No good deed goes unpunished’.

And you can’t escape them.

They are around you by design.

They’re there to drag you down to their level –

They are ‘The boring, The Mean, The stupid & Uncreative’.

They are your punishment for living, for not being born to the right bloodline.

In there own minds they are ‘cool’ – & definitely to good for you.

For they do not see the wealth evidence to the contrary –

Ignorance is bliss & it fuels their ‘backward cognitive dissonance-land’.

Where all that is good must be bad,

Whereby anyone emanating anything good, original, or interesting is to be marked as ‘the enemy’.

This the everyman in the urban wastelands that about everywhere.

They are your curse.

Befriend them at your peril.

Unfortunately you must learn this the hard way.

With age you will learn to keep them at arms length,

To varying degrees of success.

They do not give up on their prey easily.

And if you’re not on your game, in your quest to combat them –

You might end up becoming one of them yourself.

Which incidentaly – they will not like either.

For they are so perfectly debased – that they also hate their fellow ‘soldiers of the abyss’.

And p.s. – becoming a total recluse is no solution.

You can only carry your wound-full arrows as a badge of honor.

You must at all costs remain you.

For surely that is all you really truly have.

I repeat:

Always beware the ‘soldiers of the abyss’.

They are everywhere.

And remember – there is one ultimate enlightening Truth

True Darkness will not and cannot prevail over all that is Good.

An update from the writer (+ other whimsy-like anecdotes).

By Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

Well, we are hurtling to the end on 2025. Here the weather is getting hot – which as all arty people know – is bad for being artistically productive. The extra energy that the air brings takes away the top 5% brain function that good art requires.

This is why I haven’t posted for a long ten odd days now – so this is the perfect time for a ‘update post’ – it’s all filler but interesting none the less! (I hope).

Let me start with a little larf. Today I had a couple of laboring jobs, & as is my habit, I go to my local Chinese restaurant afterthe day is over for a tasty feed & a beer (I usually get a beer & a plate of Nasi-goreng for $20 0 a good deal eh?). As I have mentioned I like to have a chat with the staff, & I am basically a “VIP” there. What can I say – must be my natural charm (or is it the free english lessons & the cash from my wallet? yes probably that). Anyway today the interaction went like this:

“Hello Anton, do you want some cold water”

“Yes Yein that would be great – I’m parched”

“What does “parched” mean Anton?”

“I’ll tell you later, I’m too tired to explain”

“That’s ok – take a seat”

(I take my usual seat & she brings over a glass bottle of very cold chilled water. I open it pour some and take a quenching gulp).

“Ah that’s good, thanks Yien – it’s nice & cold too”

“Did you know in China we don’t like our water cold? We even have a saying for how warm water is better for you”

“Really? We in NZ have saying about drinking warm water too”

“Really??”

“Yes it goes like this….’We in NZ used to drink our water warm….BUT WE’RE NOT IN CHINA ANYMORE, ARE WE!!!”

Yien laughed at this bad, somewhat Americanised joke (Or shoudl I say ‘Americanized’), and I soon ate my usual tasty Nasi Goreng + cold beer (I usually prefer Asahi, or Steinlager, but this time I had a Heineken as they had run out),

Anyway so that was nice to hear someone laugh today. I told my mother the joke I made & she thought it was a bad joke (Mothers are always so brutally honest aren’t they).

I think I’ll leave it at that – other than to say that this year is the 5th year of my blog & as far as views/visits it’s been a record year by quite a margin – I think they are up by at least by 75% this year.

Thankyou to all the readers – yes there is a lot of bad stuff – but every now and then there is something ok or good (I hope). I am thinking more ‘slice of my life in my home town’ angles will be coming next year – the truth & small-town-grounded-ness angle really adds some intimacy I think.

Cheers & keep writing & reading – a great thing to do (lets do it while pens, paper, & keyboard clacks & characters on screens still exist!).

Yours Anton Martin Smith 8 Dec 11:36PM, Central Otago South Island NZ.

“A Fate Worse Than Death” (A Poem)

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmith@gmail.com

In any human society with a culture – there are three overarching mental states:

Life

Death

Anti-Life

The most advanced cultures mostly embrace ‘Life’ & so thrive the most.

The stock average culture has large doses of the second & third contaminating the first but gets by.

The most fucked up cultures are too stupid to know how badly ‘Anti-Life’ they have become, these are the forever hell-holes.

Oh & come to think of it – this also works on the individual level too.

So even in all the Earth’s paradise’s there can still yet be demons,

And in even in all the Earth’s Hells their can still be angels.

‘Everyday life’ is a very strange thing indeed.

(& don’t let some fool tell you it ain’t).

Special Philosophical Post……’Our Mental Life’

by Anton martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

Sometimes I like to write essays or articles – usually they just pop into existence like a quantum particle. They arrive when they arrive. Because they are often ‘long winded’ vs ‘artistic’, I coral them all on another site – which has very little following (requires too much mental attention you see).

Below is the opening few lines & a link to the whole article – should you be interested in Philosophical musings…….

There’s a saying about when you level up your biggest enemy/s comes from a person in your inner circle, and you biggest champion comes from a complete stranger.

It’s a very interesting little saying…….

Read The rest of this post by clicking link below:

“Deadly De-Facto’s” (A Poem)

by Anton MartinSmith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

They are not ‘chilling’ at all..

They are avoiding life itself.

By avoiding all chances of pain,

They also killed the oasis’ of creativity,

That the world delivers only haphazardly.

They murdered their ‘pals of camaraderie’ –

Most of who existed but were never summoned.

For how does a life become a-life-worthwhile?

Interestingly their pain simply compounded anyway.

At least the smarter ones involved at least knew to drink –

For if a fool’s errand doth live – then let it raise a glass to itself.

This article is owned by Martin Smith Creations ltd (NZ). If you are a person or a small non-profit please read or reproduce freely. Commercial Users or NGO’s: If you want to purchase for reprint of this work for a commercial project to reach a wider audience – then contact me via martinantonsmith@gmail.com to gain written legal permission.