Speaker by Various Artists

It's three o'clock in the morning and the music has just died. I'm standing behind the turntables at the Leigh Sawmill Cafe twiddling knobs for the Bassteppa sound system while DJ Big Matt winds up the evening. It's been a long day but because this is a winter solstice party, it was also the shortest of the year. The room is full of funky rural types who've been dancing up a storm, especially the young gentleman in hip hop attire sidling up behind a number of the women and doing a tacky uninvited bump'n'grind routine. He's friendly enough, though, and keeps coming up to the DJ and shouting somethng about "mad crazy tunes, bro!" There's talk of an after-party at someone's place up the road but I'm heading for sleep. The luxurious DJ accommodation is a dishevelled caravan in the middle of the cabbage patch out the back. The after-party goes until 6 a.m. or so. The host was dancing and smoking P in front of the DJs' setup. Freaky.

What is it with this P epidemic? Just how bad is it? There's Pita Sharples on TV holding information sessions for local urban communities talking about three 14-year old girls, who told him they were prostituting themselves to pay for P, and of a 9-year old found with gear for snorting the drug in his lunchbox. Waitakere Mayor Bob Harvey is talking about P, as is Hayley Westenra. Her new album is called Pure, though that's just an unhappy coincidence. When she talks about Coke, she means the bubbly soft drink.

A mate of mine who does some work in Mt Eden Prison told me there's a P epidemic inside. P, a highly addictive form of methamphetamine, is a strange drug of choice for someone who's locked up. Why would you want to stay wide awake for as long as possible in prison?

A discussion on the biggie.co.nz forum concerned whether or not P use in the dance scene was exclusive to NZ. Responses suggest that the amphetamine is not widely used in the UK dance scene where pills are cheap (about £1.70) and coke sells for £30-50 per gram. An Australian posting to the bulletin board says "the only peeps that use it are junkies, bikers and truck drivers." A Kiwi tells how friends of his who are businessmen, builders and executives got together recently for a catch-up; out of 12 of them at dinner, eight were on P. And this was on a Tuesday night. One of his friends who was building a house spent $15,000 on the drug over a six-week period.

The government started moves to reclassify methamphetamine from a Class B drug to Class A in December. Police closed down 151 methamphetamine labs in 2002 compared with 41 in 2001 and expect this year's figures to double again. P has been linked with several high-profile violent crimes including the RSA murders.

In late May Associate Health Minister Jim Anderton introduced the government's Methamphetamine Action Plan. The MP met with Coolio while the rapper was visiting Aotearoa and says he found it "extraordinary how honest [Coolio] was about all this substance abuse and hard drugs." In the rap game, Jim, that's what they call keeping it real.

Meanwhile in a former sawmill on the coast north of Auckland, a bunch of friendly locals dance through the night. From the wicked dubwise sounds of International Observer to The Chaplin and Big Matt's splendid vinyl selections, it's been a good party. And now I'm off to sleep in a caravan in a cabbage patch.

Paris is as chaotically beautiful as ever. There have been strikes and protests but I haven't experienced any; my sister Anne-Marie is a secondary school teacher - on strike, rolling strikes, one day per week. But the school year is now over, and more protests and "industrial actions" are scheduled for September, when school resumes. France is now looking forward to the sacrosanct summer holidays.

It is hot and sunny, every day. School children push each other in the numerous public fountains, school bag and all, startling the tourists. There are many children in the city, well-mannered with adults and roguish with their peers.

I am trying to get some boutiques interested in New Zealand-designed products: I have left samples of Saben bags with Colette and I am to meet the man in charge of the Beaubourg design boutique. Shops and stores are abundantly stocked, but my interest is not in shopping.

I have accomplished my pilgrimage to the Institut du Monde Arabe (Arab World Institute), on the Seine riverbank. The strictly modernist construction made of glass and aluminium brings together architectural concepts of the Orient and the Occident. The southern facade consists of 240 moucharabiehs, with an electronically operated mechanism. The purpose of the Institute is to promote the Arab culture amongst the French and European public. Not to be missed.

The Arab culture was already very present when I left France, nearly 20 years ago. When asked what I missed about France, that was what first came to my mind: the constant chatter of Arab acquaintances, the music - particularly the Rai modern music - couscous and mint tea.

Rai music has many big hits with the French public that are unknown elsewhere, from artists such as Cheb Khaled and Rachid Taha. And yes, there are conflicts and racism, though the present conflict is internal to the Arab community, brought to the surface by the beurettes (young Arab women, French born and bred) and their ni putes ni soumises faction ("neither whores, nor submitted"). Courageous girls, when you hear the threat and violence they can be submitted to at home.

Salam aleikoum and with love...

Well, they’ve confirmed that arsenic is in the Waikato River, but never fear, the filtering process strips that out, and the pesticides, herbicides, bacteria, chemicals and assorted crap ending up in it between Lake Taupo and Meremere. I understand that the unfortunate thing is that the company that tests the efficacy of the filtering process is the same company that runs it.

Which brings me to a horrifying conclusion. Maybe the Water Pressure Group was right all along. God knows, as Russell B. has testified himself, that Penny Bright and the WP Group are not the easiest people to deal with.

Bloody-minded, dogmatic, aggressive, in-your-face confrontational. But get past that, and there’s a lot of sense behind what they say. I guess on one level, the WP Group resort to anger through loud noises and concreting water mains, interspersed with berating the media (and in one very sad case, Phil Raffills, dying of cancer at the time) – making them our version of suicide bombers. However, I must say that resorting to strident calls for action against the powers that be rather than violent mayhem is a very New Zealand approach (thank God)!

Which led me to think, however, that in a way, these people are our heroes. We may not think so now, but give it 20 years.

Look at John Minto. Once viewed as a dishonourable “professional protester” by much of the country in very ugly fashion during the 1984 Springbok tour. At the time, he was vilified and on occasion, beaten, along with other protesters. Now, pretty much everyone agrees that what they were fighting for was a just cause and Minto’s place in history is now ‘anti-racism warrior’.

Minto had commitment and persistence. He had a vision of a better place and goals to achieve. Which he did. And now he’s still getting up people’s noses, fighting for a better education for our children.

Go back fifty years to the 1951 Waterfront Lockout and many of the union leaders, especially Jock Barnes, eventually became heroes – kiwi icons. During the lockout the Government passed legislation that made it illegal to give the workers food!

These men, some of whom fought in WW2 against fascism, found fascistic methods being employed against them in their own country. But they fought on and now many who know the circumstances of that fight believe they fought justly. Regardless of the merits of the fight, in the context of history, they have become heroes.

There are Maori who have fought for indigenous rights in this country who are now loved by the country but were once considered radicals and ‘stirrers’. Ex-City Councillor, Maire Leadbeater fought for East Timor for years. Everyday, thousands of people around the country take pen to paper, as Amnesty International members, to write to dictators and tyrants, pressuring them to treat political prisoners with respect and fairness and often gaining their release.

Everyday, there are people who work to make this a better place. Take pen to paper. Take action. Claim the right.

In a city bereft of monuments to great people (our heroes) building a $10,000,000 glass case (beautiful as it is) for a yacht as a remembrance for a man who tried to save the oceans – a task slightly more important than winning a billionaires’ yacht race a couple of times – is, at best, inappropriate.

Question the logic of the person chosen as our city’s leader to spend $100,000 on an opening party for something he condemned and to which most of us won’t be invited (the irony of a horse-drawn carriage being used to open a rail terminal has not been lost) every chance you get.

What is the difference between a Banks and a Minto? On the face of it the similarities are startling. Commitment, persistence. But there is a crucial difference: fighting for a cause greater than oneself. Herein lies Banksie’s ultimate failing. I don’t think he believes there is anything greater than himself.

Please – could we have more Mintos and Brights and fewer Banksies?

The start of another week brings a familiar emotional response -- like I’ve been here before. And of course, I have. Every week.

We’ve been had, you know. We were led to believe we could, no -- should -- have lives of excitement, doing anything we wanted.

The harsh reality (isn’t it amazing how clichés really can capture a truth) is that life is mostly banal. Mondays begin with trepidation and distaste, for even the most exciting of jobs. Saved one life, saved a few (at least, that’s how it appears on ER).

“Most men lead lives of quiet desperation” is the saying. In fact, most lives are made up of mundane routine, leading to increasing frustration.

There is always the excitement of the novel, even the frisson of fear when something goes wrong, that alleviates the feeling briefly. Shopping has replaced religion as the balm of the soul, but the pleasure of something new is so brief. No wonder church is every Sunday. By Friday, that religious fervour has worn off and it’s time to party. Sunday, of course, brings hangovers, guilt, contrition and confession.

Most of my friends are hitting 40. Many are going through changes and re-evaluations. It’s not an easy time for them. But it’s not an unusual experience. Books have been written, movies have been filmed, fortunes have been made in detailing the trauma of realising youth is fleeing and perhaps there are things other than the career in which 20 odd years have been invested.

There’s a realisation that perhaps the slave to Mammon approach may not have been the best one after all. But it’s a bitch when it hits you at that age and you’re up to your eyeballs in mortgages and car payments and you have children to put through the best schools you can afford.

I think what most have missed is the constant need to re-evaluate their lives on an ongoing basis -- not just to make sure what they’re doing is the right thing, but to make sure what they’re doing is based on values that are solid, consistent and core. Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living” and even Satre had a go at providing a framework for people to create meaning in their lives.

It’s not that the ends justify the means, but that the means, especially when carried out within a values-based context, are a satisfying avenue to the ends -- and often become ends in and of themselves. (Does this make sense?)

So what drives us forward? What gets us out of bed to shuffle off to work? Surely not merely a sense of mindless duty? Of cause, there’s always the rent/mortgage but downsizing can’t be that bad. If, in fact, it’s chasing the dream of a bigger house, faster car, newer lounge suite, then that strikes me as a rather empty chase, with nothing but disappointment at the end. Having said that, I want that new car. The thing is, once you’ve got it, there’s the next thing, and the next...

For me, there’s a mixture of things: doing and experiencing new things -- extending my outlook and perspective; doing what I think is good -- making this world a better place than the world in which I live (as the song goes).

In my life, I have lived in foreign countries; I have dined with dictators and partied with rock stars. I have written a book; I have excelled in sport. I have loved and been loved. I have leapt off tall buildings and created new things. There’s nothing like a challenge to keep life interesting.

But there’s always something new to learn, to do, to experience. It’s not easy. It’s scary because there are mistakes to be made. And life continually deals you items from left field. Roll with the punches and ride the waves when they come in.

But fundamentally, find something to give your life meaning. Decide what it is that makes your life worth living and invest in it. Take the risks continually. Sometimes it doesn’t work out but welcome to life! As bad as it is, it will get better (and as good as it is, there’s always crap coming at you). Deal with it. Help other people. Be good. Do Good. (cue Desiderata and the Sunscreen Song).

The curse of public musings is the misperceptions caused by people either misreading the comment or, through poor communication skills on the part of the writer causing confusion on the part of the reader.

Since there were only a few responses critical of my complaint against arrogant pedestrians (arrogant anything for that matter – the flip-side to inconsideration), and in the belief there were more than five people who read my posting, I can only assume it was the misreading thing rather than the confusion thing.

Let me explain.

I do not advocate cars running down pedestrians. Ollie, I do not drive a Remuera Tractor. I ride a Vespa (I would have thought that was reasonably apparent by my earlier postings, which also reinforces my belief you didn’t read it properly).

I am even a pedestrian myself, on regular and frequent occasions.

When I am a pedestrian, I endeavour to hasten across the street when there is traffic approaching – to get out of the way, since roads are for cars and footpaths are for pedestrians.

I would have thought this was somewhat self-evident. But no. Instead I am criticised for complaining about pedestrians who saunter across the road even while cars (NOT driven by me) are bearing down on them. Whatever – I’ll let you pick a fight with a Stagecoach bus; I’ll just hurry off the road.

24 finishes on Thursday night.

The story concerns a US government manipulated and eventually taken over by corrupt businesspeople and politicians hellbent on war in the Middle East to further their oil interests. No doubt the fictional version will pull back from the brink at the last minute and the world will be saved.

However, if the story was fleshed out one would no doubt be able to see harsh, unspecified Middle East regimes terrorising and oppressing their people – a perfect justification for waging military action.

And therein lies the ultimate dilemma for all us pale pink liberals. It is logical to lament the ills of the Hussein totalitarian dictatorship and to celebrate its downfall.

It is beholden on us to do so, even if it was achieved via a US administration perceived by much of the world as Machiavellian and harbouring dubious intentions; as a bully on the world stage and with as much religious-driven self-righteousness as any Islamic fundamentalist terrorist.

So we can celebrate the ends, and even the means, which were much less onerous than anticipated. (The peace is a different issue.)

But it is the intention of the US that is to be questioned.

Whether for oil or to eliminate terrorism, the ‘might=right’ argument (to borrow one of my critics arguments against pedestrians removing themselves swiftly from rapidly approaching large vehicles – not, I presume, scooters) provides a short-term solution and potentially spawns much greater problems in the longer term.

Russell B. has continued to say it better than this, and for longer, but I wanted to get this off my chest, because of a feeling of self-contradiction and hypocrisy in being pleased that Hussein was gone but a gnawing at my bones that it was done the wrong way.

Not to mention the precedent now established of ‘righteously’ attacking a perceived threat in another sovereign state prior to any overt action by that state. Hell – the US has nukes pointed at Russia – does that not now give Russia the justification to launch a pre-emptive strike?

The other concern I have, is with many of the opponents to the war. Not necessarily wishing to side with Christopher Hitchens, nevertheless, his criticism of anti-war liberals seems to me to stem in part from the knee-jerk reaction by either ‘side’ of the Left-Right political debate to any suggestion by the other.

Because an idea comes from a group or individual associated with a particular political philosophy, that idea, per se, is deemed ‘wrong’. This is intellectual laziness at its worst and in part, I believe, at the core of Hitchen’s complaint. (A perfect demonstration of this is from Dennis Dutton’s piece in the Herald. Dutton buys into the US viewpoint completely and conducts an ad hominem (attacking the person) attack on those who disagree with him which only demeans his viewpoint and, as Dutton himself says, “there's an intellectual laziness in this and a lack of moral imagination” - talk about ‘pot calling the kettle…’ and all that).

My experiences with both sides has given me a jaundiced view of politics, even though I am fascinated by it and continue to believe there are good people wishing to do good things caught up in it.

On the one side, there are the politics of selfishness. On the other, the politics of envy. And that’s why people aren’t voting. Or voicing opinions in public.