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Author: ThousandPetalsProject
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July 17, 2020, Journal
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July 15, 2020, Journal
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July 13, 2020, Journal
There’s nowhere for me to go in this heater-forsaken country but north, where rolling mountainsides of ferns and palms promise sun-drenched mornings and shelter from the bitter Antarctic winds. I’m content to float meaninglessly towards warmth. It’s God’s chance to prove that my life is worthwhile, and I just want to step back and see what happens. If I’m going to stay in New Zealand, I’ll have to replenish my plundered stash of weed by driving to Motueka, and that appears to be my only plan. Covid had given me license to be myself intensely, and I certainly don’t want to be sober for that.
Half of a smooth, laterally-striped bivalve shell soothed my restless fingers as I waited for my new rental car to arrive in Christchurch this afternoon. Davina gave the shell to me yesterday, at a small beach in Timaru that was sandwiched between clusters of cargo ships and discarded boulders. The rather industrial city had made an honest attempt to preserve what natural beauty the beach had by leaving the surrounding ankle-high dunes to sprout whatever wayward grasses they fancied, and the resulting sandscape had a disheleved atmosphere that seemed to encourage spent seashells and other flotsam.
We’d met there with less than an hour to spare before the premature winter sunset. It was hard for her to get time off work; at least while the sun was up. Davina and her boyfriend, Nathan, had found jobs at a potato farm after our post-lockdown diaspora from the Lodge. They’d been desperate to find a way to pay for the extensive repairs that their caravan needed, and if they could make it through three months of dirt and discomfort, they could even fund an adventurous summer in that caravan.
From what Davina told me on Timaru’s wind-whipped beach, the conditions that she had to endure were barely worth the pay. Her days were spent kneeling outside, planting potatoes in freezing mud from dawn to dusk. She and her boyfriend shared an unheated, roach-infested flat with two other potato farmers. Nathan was succumbing to a deep depression, and she had little energy with which to support him after a hard day’s work in the potato fields. Davina was lonely. Davina needed a friend. I love her, and I wish I was the sort of person that could be a friend.
My efforts at friendship were a superficial success in that we were both happy that we’d spent time together. I said some kind and thoughtful things, Davina nodded in agreement, but we somehow both knew that I would remain distant after our lovely beach rendezvous. I don’t want to be like that. I want friends. I just don’t know how it’s done with girls.
One sympathizes, right? One listens without judgement and with unswerving loyalty. I did that! I listened well and awkwardly reciprocated. Neither of us enjoyed my reluctance to talk about my own exploits over the last couple of months. I told her about the Mormon and our breakup, carefully obscuring the details of our somewhat illegal lockdown dalliance so that it would seem as though I’d met him after the social distancing restrictions were lifted.
My problems were nothing compared to Davina’s. She and Nathan were impoverished migrant workers who were being taken advantage of by Kiwi farmers who’d never treat their own that way. I’d experienced a little of that while planting garlic on the Mormon’s farm, but my role in New Zealand is that of a tourist. I’m here to use New Zealand, not to allow her to use me. I’ve done my time, and this vacation is my reward for surviving death and divorce. We’re on opposite sides of some vast mountain range of life; Davina and I, as much as we understand and love each other’s personalities. She’s building her life, and I’m walking away from the rubble of mine.
Davina is young and strong. Her kindness is as rich and beautiful as her long, honey-blonde hair. I’ve been there; full of feminine power and promise, attached to some weak man; and if someone had told me then to cut my losses and run, I’d never have forgiven them. Not until well after the divorce, anyway. I could see that Nathan is a good person – it’s obvious in his art: his detailed wildlife photography and his unique, lovingly carved wooden spoons that he’s understandably reluctant to sell. This sort of situation is foreign to me: none of my previous partners have been good enough to fight for. I really had no idea how to advise Davina on her struggle to improve her relationship and her living conditions.
As the darkness grew, the ends of the grey wharf disappeared into the heavy twilight that was swallowing the ocean. We slowly walked back towards our cars in the blue-tinted light, the imprints of our bare toes leaving a series of tiny seawater puddles in the soft, saturated sand. A sprawling glob of seaweed encouraged a slight change of direction, and Davina paused to take a few long, satisfied breaths of ocean air.
“I’m so glad to be out here on the beach. You know they have Little Blue Penguins here sometimes – the Korora,” Davina glowed peacefully, naming the native bird as she would name a friend. “It’s hard to catch sight of them, but we’ve seen them in a few places along this coast. Nathan is amazing at photographing birds. I’m lucky that he loves being quiet in nature as much as I do.”
“No doubt. Well, that’s a great way to get him out of a funk – go hiking for a few hours and let him soak up the good vibes.”
“Work is so consuming.” Davina’s gaze stretched long over the ocean. “We’re both so tired, all the time.”
“Ai.” I couldn’t look at her because I was afraid of sounding like her mother. “The sicker you get, the harder it is to take the medicine.”
“I don’t want to go back to planting potatoes tomorrow.”
“Is it worth your time?” I asked her.
“It’s what I have to do if I want to keep my visa and enjoy at least a little bit of this country.” Davina’s sad smile encompassed every unhappy accident that she’d endured since she left Israel with Nathan. “My ankle is finally strong again, lockdown is finally over, and the caravan is working again. I want to see the little Rurus, the native wood-owls.”
I smiled back in the dark, joyous at the thought of Davina meeting an adorable little Ruru in the woods. In truth, that moment would indeed be worth months of digging around in cold mud. I wanted to squeeze her shoulders in a half-hug, but I’m not worthy of the friendship of such a sweet soul. Instead, I crammed my hands deeper into my jacket pockets and we walked on.
“He’s worth it,” Davina said quietly.
“He is,” I agreed, with whole-hearted honesty. And she is, too.
We continued in silence, so I tried to redeem myself with more words. “It’s rare to find good men like Nathan. If you love him, you’re the best one to do the hardest job of helping him through his depression. An artist that’s loved is a blessing to this unfriendly world, but one that battles alone cannot win against the shadows that art reveals.”
I stopped, uncertain of the truth in my words. I always say stupid things. Davina paused with me, and scooped up a perfect little bivalve shell that had washed up with the latest wave. It was a Pipi, an abundant native mollusc that gumboot-shod Kiwis sometimes collected for chowders or fry-ups. The creature inside had vacated recently, so the two halves of his shell were wide open and glossy with vitality. Soft grey growth lines pulsed out from his little core like waves in a pool. Taking the shell in both hands, Davina cracked the halves asunder, and I hushed my instinctive gasp.
Davina handed me one half of the Pipi, as if she was performing a familiar sacred ritual.
“Here,” she said. “For you. To remember this beautiful beach.”
Pipi in hand, I was shocked and silent. Is this friendship? It was too beautiful to be real. I was included, on purpose and without hesitation. Davina must be mistaken, or quite lonely. Was I good enough to be one half of a whole? Sure, I’d once given her and Nathan a ride to the auto mechanic’s shop, but didn’t she know that I was terrible at returning texts? I don’t deserve gifts. I don’t get included. I’m like a rescued wild animal… although I want to show gratitude and kindness, you can’t expect me to ever understand how to be tame. It’s just not worth your time. It’s an insufficient return on your investment.
Night concealed my stupid teary eyes, and I smiled wide so that my white teeth caught orange glow of the wharf’s walkway above us. Davina laced her arm through mine, and we amiably slipped back through the unkempt lamplit blue dunes. My thanks stumbled out as we hugged and parted ways in the parking lot. I’m far too embarassed at my social awkwardness to consider meeting up with her again. I can’t pinpoint what I did wrong, but I know that I’ve somehow ruined yet another potential friendship. Grasping the little shell close, I wondered what it might be like to have these precious, kind moments at the beginning of a relationship rather than at the end. Would it be as unsettling as tasting unsalted food?
I’ll never know. My life is hard in a different way. It’s not hard because I’m soft. It’s hard because I’m hard, and softness can’t survive the sharp edges that are proof of my passing.
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July 13, Correspondence
Texts between the Mormon and I
On July 13, at 11:44am, the Mormon wrote:
got there ok? How are you getting on?
3:57pm – Hi! Yeah, all good, thanks.
I had the chance to visit with one of my lockdown friends!
It was so good to see her again!
But she says there are no jobs around here.
Think I might head north tomorrow.
How are you?
Texts between Drew the Drug Dealer and I
On July 13, at 7:04pm, I wrote:
Hi Drew! We met maybe a month ago and the Mormon gave me your number.
I’m traveling up your way again, and I was wondering if you could hook me up?
If not, no worries – I know this is kinda out of nowhere.
7:06 – Give me a holla when you’re in town and I’ll see what I can do
7:06 – Sweet! thanks
Emails between Sister and I
On July 1, 2020, at 7:35am, Sister wrote:
Hi Sister? Did you feel the earthquake in NZ? Are you still there?
The European Union banned travelers coming from USA. Travelers from New Zealand are allowed.
Anyway I hope you are ok
On July 9, 2020, at 4:09pm, I wrote:
Hi Sister! I hope the kids have a wonderful vacation, even though things are still upside down. They look happy!
I still don’t have a good plan. I would love to visit – thank you so much for that joyous possibility! But I checked out the travel restrictions, and they say only EU citizens are allowed to travel to France right now. I saw that they would accept more people (just health workers and students though?) after July 10, including New Zealand citizens – would I count? I wrote an email to French Foreign Affairs, and we shall see what they say! I would probably need to do 2 weeks of quarantine anyway.
The Mormon is gone, finally. He was lazy and a nudnik, and I’m pretty sure that all the good guys are taken. There’s no good reason to be here. Sorry, I wish I had some news. I didn’t even feel the earthquake! Mama is pushing me to stay here. I’ve been able to delay my taxes and yearly eye exam, so I might as well stay for another few weeks. But I truly have no idea what I’m doing here. I’ll be headed out of the Otago area (where the Mormon lives) towards Christchurch again this weekend. The Mormon was right – this place will suck you in. I think some locations are like that – our hometown, too. It’s often seemed like a black hole to me. We both escaped!!
Anyway, this hotel is nice, and i’ve been able to heal a lot in the past week or so. My back and right hip and ankle are bothering me from driving or from the cold – I am so old! Mama was right – arthritis is no good! But they have a good bed and hot showers here. I’m enjoying healthy food and a good sleep schedule and I feel better than I’ve felt in weeks. Can I blame the Mormon? Probably not.
How does the summer feel? Are people relaxing finally? I guess if hotels are closed, there are still no tourists? I finally got a haircut last week and it feels so good! I got rid of 4 or 5 inches of dead stuff. And a few days later, one Mormon.
I miss him a little. But this short and ungraceful relationship is giving me a lot to write about, so I’m so grateful for all of my experiences here. So, my days are writing and yoga and cooking now, hopefully to be repeated in several choice locations around this sweet island for a little longer!
I’ll let you know when I get a response from the French Foreign Affairs office. I’ll be going to the American Embassy in Christchurch on Monday to try and figure out a plan of sorts. I hope all is well. Sometimes I imagine that, by the time I leave NZ, the whole world will have already gotten the coronavirus, and I’ll have to contract it anyway just to be a part of society once I’m off this island. Maybe it’s best just to catch it and survive it?
I love you and thank you and wish you and the family a happy Bastille Day!
On July 10, 2020, at 10:30am, Sister wrote:
X? you are alive! It so nice to hear from you! I did not realize my last email was so cold and rigid. Sorry about that!
What guy exists that is NOT lazy and a nudnik? All the ones I’ve ever met are! Did you have to develop arthritis in those freezing conditions in the van? That is too much!
We are getting old, eh? What was that you said?
Here are some news updates that accumulated while you were cloistered up as a hermit (but not too crabby… gosh, my sense of humor is getting progressively stale as the years go by).
They voted green in my city! Our mayor is an ecologist. She is going to develop the parks and maybe make tram free for all children under 18 and other people too. That will make it easier for me – i won’t have to do all that extra multiplication in my head every time the children ask to go to Orangerie! We actually just walked there the last 2 times. It was a disaster. The eldest stepped on a bee the last time… we had to walk all the way home. Luckily a handy banana peel soothed her foot temporarily… until it kept slipping out of her sandal. Poor girl.
On Monday, the synogogue gave the children gifts, as usual at the end of the year. Hebrew books mostly… but the eldest got a surprise gift, some kind of blue-tooth earphones. The children were so excited with it; it worked with my phone. But the fourth child did not go to Hebrew school, so she had no gift. She cried in the secretary’s office – but a cute, quiet crying, she had tears in her eyes, “why don’t I have a gift, too?” so the secretary found some sticker book and gave it to her. Then she was happy.
The eldest with her new headphones forced me to figure out what the heck is bluetooth. I felt like some primitive caveman with all my lack of knowledge. She’s already better than me with my own phone! (she’s giving me lessons on it) How embarrassing!
The eldest actually says she remembers Grandma (our mother) and trying to repeat some Russian words after her… and you! She remembers stuff I already forgot, like when Auntie slammed the door after she was playing with your bra?? There were other instances… it all seems funny now (at least to me…) when you were angry because of a pipi the second child did on the floor? The eldest actually dreamed about you a week or two ago. She said we were all in a haunted house (dirty, no light at all) and then you prayed in her dream (yes! Auntie X in the eldest’s dream was praying), and the whole house was filled with light. I hope things are OK over there! You’re so far away from everyone!
I better go! Sorry for babbling away as we Geminis sometimes tend to do! Love, Sister
Emails between Mother and I:
On July 8, 2020, at 2:35pm, Mother wrote:
Today, as never before, please, stay put where are you! Read the news from the Babel, the USA. I do not see any improvement, not in the COVID-19 numbers, not in the political shifts.
The head of the country – is stupid. His policies are harmful to the country, for our lives, health, business, promised happiness. Money for the people and unemployment lost in Kushner’s and Trump’s many companies’ deep pockets. The unemployment rate is growing, as is homelessness, the random crime and racism. I do not believe I am living in this kind of time, I thought they were finished and past away in my Grandparents’ lives.
Please, my Darling X! Do everything which is in your power and what is LEGAL to stay in New Zealand, appeal to the right instances, people, offices. I know how much you hate bureaucracy and meaningless running from one to another but no one could do it for you today, just you. Please, be kind to yourself and stay there now. Wait for the changes in this country. Hopefully for good. You know. You know the rest. Love my precious daughter with all of my heart, Mother.
On July 12, 2020, at 7:36am, Mother wrote:
Hello, X! Shabbat Shalom to you! I hope you are alright.
I saw your pictures on Instagram. Such beautiful places. Please, be safe, keep yourself healthy, write to me if you need help. Help me help you. But stay there as long as you may do so!
I saw another article today: they want to free 8,000 criminals in in California because of the corona. You are so much safer there, so much more! Ain li milim! I am speechless! I miss you. I wish I could hug you and hide you. But it is so much better for you to be in NEW ZEALAND today than in the USA. People are crazy, dying like flys and still do not wear the masks! Some Karma is boomeranging the USA for all the racism and hypocracy they did to me, to you, to blacks and to native Americans. I do not know other interpretation for all this. Love, Mother.
On July 13, 2020, at 6:19am, Mother wrote:
How right you were!
On July 13, 2020, at 6:31pm, I wrote:
Hi Mama,
Of course I’m right – I’m YOUR daughter!
Ha! I knew a nonviolent revolution could succeed! Tell me, how did they pull it off? Did the rebels band together and march on the White House? Was it an internet coup?
I hope you are doing well? I guess I will stay here for 3 more weeks, at least. I seem to say that every 3 weeks! I’m back in the north part of the south island for the warmer weather. I still don’t know what to do or where to go. I hoped there would be more clarity after Mercury went out of retrograde, but there isn’t, and I’ve had delays in my travels. I think I can put off my life in the US a little longer. I am not sure that I can afford a life here, but so far I am ok, I think. I need to figure out how to check my savings account, and then I can tell you whether or not I have a money problem.
Thanks so much for offering to help! But I do feel guilty – the money is yours and I am wasting time here. I need to find a solution where I don’t have to take from you.
I heard that some states are closing again. Are you ok? I hope that you are enjoying the summer a little? It must be so nice and warm there!
I know it’s been a while since I wrote, but there’s not much news. I’m still floating around the country… You’ve seen the pictures! I’m in a town called Geraldine, for another night anyway, and then maybe I will go find a warm beach further north. Not that warm, though! It really is winter here.
I bought a space heater at a thrift store, and I’ve been taking it into all my hostel rooms because they are stingy with heat here. This room doesn’t even have a heater! And it’s a nice place, too – you would like the chandelier in the bathroom. Thank you for your letters! I love to read them, even if I am lazy on responding. It is good to know what’s going on over there, and I’m glad you think I’m in the right place for now. The tourist visa that I got when I arrived is good for 2 years, actually. I’m just not supposed to earn money. Well, these poor Kiwis are trying to restart the tourism business here with no tourists, so I guess I am helping their economy as much as I can with my American dollars. At least I’m doing one productive thing here!
I love you very very very much!!
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July 11, Journal
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July 11, Correspondence
Texts between the Mormon and I
On July 10, at 9:01am, the Mormon wrote:
Bloody frosty
9:02am – Yeah!
You warm enough?
9:06am – Haha sort of
9:09am – I have frost on my ceiling
9:10am – So cold!
9:11am – Should i come over in a few minutes?
9:13am – Sure thing that would be cool
Texts between Farmer Colin and I
On July 7, 3:17pm, I wrote:
Hey Colin! Do you have time to hang out today?
I made too much soup
6:17pm – Heya X just got home.
Come round if you like.
Place a mess trying to sort my crap out a bit.
6:37pm – Cool! Be there soon
On July 9, 8:13pm, Farmer Colin wrote:
Heya X? How are you going?
10:12pm – Good, thanks! How about you?
On July 11, 5:28pm, Farmer Colin wrote:
Heya X. What are you up to this evening?
6:17pm – Hey Colin! I’m in Geraldine until Tuesday.
Got drawn in again with the Mormon and had to run
fast and far. I really wish I wasn’t so far away
– would be nice to hang
How are you?
6:18pm – I’ll be back in town next week
6:25pm – Im all good, just chilling at home tonight.
Was just wondering if you were free.
Have fun in geraldine.
Say hi to the Mormon for me if you like.
7:40pm – Lol You’ll probably see the Mormon before me
– I left him behind and he’s looking for a refill.
He must have sold some of his and my missing portion.
There’s no way 2 people can go through 3/4 in 8 days.
Ugh. So done wit it.
And thanks! It’ll be good to clear my head out here.
I’ll let you know when I’m in the area
– hopefully we can find time to hang out.
Have a wonderful evening!
Texts between Turban and I
On July 9, at 4:12pm, Turban wrote:
Hey, just finish work
How was your lunch BTW 
4:23pm – Lunch was awesome, thanks!
Wanna hang out by the lake?
4:26pm – Yeah would like to but got split shift today..
gonna work in wanaka
Have to start at 5.30
Was feeling hungry.. will eat something 
4:26pm – Man, you work hard!
4:27pm – Yeah, kind of
Anyway its fine, may be will catch u up in christchurch
Gonna go there may be next month
4:27pm – Cool – i hope so!
Keep in touch & let me know when you make it there
4:28pm – Yeah sure, you also keep in touch
Let me know if you need any help
Would like to help u
4:29pm – Absolutely will! It’s been really great talking to you.
4:30pm – Same here dear:-)
I found you intresting
4:34pm – You, too! 
wish i had more time here.
4:35pm – Yeah, mee too
But anyway
No worries
Safe drive to chrch
Dear and msg me when u got there
What time u leaving tomorrow?
5:11pm – 10am – that’s checkout time, right?
5:12pm – Yeah
Will see you may be in early morning at lodge
What time u wake up?
5:16pm – Around 6, but i’m not really up until around 8
See you in the morning!
On July 10, at 7:57am, I wrote:
Good morning! How’s it going? I hope you slept well?
10:05am – Its was really good! And hope u sleep well
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July 10, Journal
6:30am
A virile young couple has moved in next door at the lodge. The waves of testosterone are making me dizzy.
I’ve got to get out of here. One more bowl of oatmeal, one more orgasmic shower under the lodge’s hot, clit-punishing showerhead, and I’m out. I don’t even try to keep my moans quiet anymore.
9:25am
Turban’s kiss was as pillowy as his thick brown lips promised. They cushioned mine against the shock of their proximity; seemingly appearing out of nowhere after a long, sexually charged good-bye hug in the lodge’s communal kitchen. We pressed our lips earnestly together a few times before Turban snaked a pointed tongue into the crevice between mine. I welcomed its slickness with soft licks, and our hungry bodies pressed together indecently. Resenting every woolly layer of clothing that kept my skin away from his, I caressed his bare neck and let my fingertips slide over the back of his exotic black turban. We kissed away the long minutes until the 10am check-out time, when I had to reluctantly pull away from our warm embrace in the bright morning sun.
If there wasn’t a horny Mormon waiting for me less than a mile away, I’d have found a way to get naked with Turban. Why did he wait to express his interest until the evening before my departure? We could have fucked a lot in this past week, but it never occurred to me to make a move because Turban was the manager here, and he had been commendably professional. As it was, we only got half an hour together with our desire exposed, and this belly-melting kiss is all that we’ll ever have time for. Time is a funny thing. The story of Turban and I lasted exactly as long as it was supposed to, I guess: we were allotted one kiss, and it was delightful.
I’ll have to practice noticing and taking more opportunities for sex. It’s a shame to miss this ride when I have no fear or reticence holding me back. Shy dicks need riding, too, but only the bold ones get wet.
10:11am
I’ve just pulled in to the Mormon’s farm and Rex is running in happy circles around me. Turban’s kiss turned me on so much that I am going to fuck that Mormon limp.
He’s just walking towards me now, smiling his lopsided Wolverine smile, and my heart has flipped and melted like a chocolate chip pancake. The Mormon is everything that I do and don’t want in a partner, and I need to be safe in his sexy arms before I leave him behind in the dust. I’ve completely forgotten what Turban’s lips felt like.
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July 9, Journal and Correspondence
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