Barry was born over 31,000 days ago in Philadelphia... an event he immediately regretted.

"It wasn't my fault," he insists. "The stork was stoned."

Not one to readily accept others' screw-ups (nor admit to his own), he has been searching for his natural birthplace ever since. The search has led to a life of wandering.

Scores of times did he land in a new spot or country and been heard to exclaim: "This is it! I've found my true home!" Followed, some months later, with: "Get me the hell out of here!"

Digital passport chips were invented solely because so many pages were added to Barry's old analogue ones he was forever getting searched at international airports, accused of trying to smuggle accordions past customs.

Earlier on, before he had escaped Philly, he went through public school (great marks, lousy education), a couple of universities (fair marks, lousy education), compulsory military service (lousy marks, terrific education) and the corporate world (lousy marks, lousy education), where he did PR for organizations as diverse as the Ballistic Missile Early Warning System, an American defense debacle, and the Philadelphia Eagles, a football playing debacle. He was fired from both. This last occurred March 16, 1965. He celebrates the anniversary every year.

Barry then tried self-employment, running a one-man ad/public relations agency, wherein, among other useless functions he packaged and broadcast sporting events. He was sacked due to inability to get along with the boss.

He began writing freelance feature articles for major magazines, taught Alpha Mind Control at the University of Pennsylvania's Free U, founded and directed the Relax For Survival Foundation. But whereas Barry achieved a modicum of success in each of these endeavors, none provided the desired sense of home. Nor did hoisting a backpack and traveling distant lands, which he did for large chunks of every year.

It wasn't until 1980 when his journeying took him to New Zealand, where Barry eventually acquired citizenship and a house on a magnificent seven mile beach in the Bay of Plenty, that his mantra-moan changed:

"Okay, maybe it's not my true home, but shit, it sure is gorgeous!"

Barry Rosenberg is responsible for no earth-shattering accomplishments, nor any remarkable upgrading to the quality of the environment, atmosphere or state of human suffering. The last third of his life has definitely been more enjoyable, however, and every now and again makes a little sense.

When not traveling to distant lands, he takes long walks on the beach, swims, cycles, putters in his rather ambitious garden, reads, writes a book every year and takes great pride being the community of 4000 permanents' sole Jewish-American vegan atheist (JAVA). That’s when the sun is shining. On rainy days, he can be seen sitting on his sofa, head in hands, bemoaning the fact that a lifetime of avoiding consequential employment has not earned him a single outstanding achievement award.

NOTE: Barry writes – as well as thinks – in two wholly different languages...Yank and Kiwi. Yeah, okay, both are considered 'English', but spellings and slang can be as dissimilar as Urdu and Swahili. Those word processor red-underline spell check thingies have long given up on him. Consider yourself warned.

The dude's philosophies of life can best be summed up by these stolen quotes:

"...a sense of one-ness is at the core of every system of belief, every view of the world, held by every child everywhere. Children have a powerful sense of the propriety of certain things. They believe that rocks and houses are alive, that bears and elephants have feelings, and that it all matters. Every child of five knows everything there is to know, but when they turn six we send them to school, and then the rot sets in."

Lyall Watson, Gifts of Unknown Things

"so far as i am concerned, poetry and every other art was and is and forever will be strictly and distinctly a question of individuality...if poetry is your goal, you've got to forget all about punishments and all about rewards and all about self-styled obligations and duties and responsibilities et cetera ad infinitum and remember one thing only: that's it's you - nobody else - who determines your destiny and decides your fate."

e. e. cummings

“…the temple (in India) was embellished with the most graphic carvings: gods and mortals intertwined in the sort of positions your local vicar would never countenance plastered all over the front of his church, yet he is perfectly happy with stained-glass depictions of the damned burning in hellfire. Why is it we Christians are so squeamish about portraying scenes of love?”

Abir Mukherjee, A Necessary Evil

"The truth about human life is that most of the time there is nothing to do, therefore the wise man cultivates the art of doing nothing."

John Burdett, Bangkok 8