Hubris.co.nz

Auckland is always such a city of contrasts. I got to Wellington Airport with much time to spare, so I read the paper cover to cover, perching preacriously on a stupidly slippery stainless steel stool, after surrendering my armchair to an army of annoying angry women who surrounded me and chatted incessantly and loudly. Of course being there early meant my flight was late coming in, and so in a hurray I decided to take a shuttle to my hotel instead of the airport bus. $26 bought me a seat with nine others, a long trip through Grey Lynn past Heather’s house and Canton where I was due for dinner, and I was the last person to be dropped off. Dammit!

But there was no time to fume. The Quadrant’s lobby was stark white and filled with scented candles. I rolled my bag down the long white walkway through the bar area and into a lift that had an embedded TV screen playing Juice. My room was tiny but functional. I discovered to my perverse joy later that I could sit on the toilet, blowdry my hair, drink vodka and watch TV all at the same time. What more could anyone want? A quick shower later, I was in a corporate cab from the Hyatt next door on my way to Kingsland. The sun was setting and reflected in all the shiny new architecture along Symonds Street. It was a beautiful view, but holy fuck, $18 for that distance? That amount would have got me to Greenlane in the olden days!

I grabbed two bottles of wine from Weta Wines, pleased it was still there and still open, and headed to Canton. There were still people at the table I’d booked (bastards!) so I went and stood on the street outside. Bopha came up and left to get cash and wine. Amy & Ross came along and left to get wine. Then came Martina and Heather. Robyn and Heather’s b/f Ben eventually completed our party, since Clay and Nige flaked.

I had been salivating over the prospect of dinner at Canton since I booked my tickets up to Auckland, and while the large group and noise of the place made converastion difficult, the food didn’t disappoint. As usual, I was appointed/appointed myself chief orderer, so with some deference to Martina’s vegetarianism, we had: black bean hapuku, sweet & sour pork, sizzling venison with ginger & spring onions, crispy roast pork, special black chilli chicken, sizzling vegetables and egg noodles with fried veges. YUM! Two people took doggie bags home, and with tea and dim sum and rice and corkage, we each paid $19.25. So good!

Afterwards we were going to go to Ruby for more drinks, but it was too loud, and so we settled on the Kingslander for a couple more bottles of wine. There were television screens EVERYWHERE, it was most distracting. But good to be able to converse. I like my friends. I cabbed back to the hotel eventually, and debated ordering porn from the in-house video system, just because I could, but it was $17.95 per movie, so I settled for watching Wild On: Naked instead. Genius.

The next morning, I set my alarm for 10.30 so I could wake up to meet Heather who was coming to the hotel at 11. We discovered that breakfast stopped being served at 10am, so tragedy of tragedies, we had to go straight for bubbly and cheese. As we sat in the sunny courtyard and I started to burn, we heard someone playing an electric guitar, and the sound bounced off the building next door. Given that Heather’d spotted John Toogood and Phil Knight in the lobby, we were happy to think that it was Shihad playing in our hotel, but it sounded pretty terrible, so maybe it was Grinspoon instead, who were due to be opening for Muse that night.

Once the sun got to be a bit too much, we tried to pay our bill, which took forever (the staff were friendly but not highly competant), and we got changed and went into the spa. Hurray! Yeah, a spa on a hot day after drinking caffiene and alcohol might not be the smartest idea ever, but it was loooooooovely. And then it was quite obviously time for lunch, so we strolled down to the Art Gallery, hoping to have lunch there, but found it was shut. Luckily Rueben at the New Art Gallery was open, so we parked ourselves on one of the balconies there, I had an average lamb salad, Heather had amazing french toast, and we had a totally unnecessary but very happy bottle of Deutz as well. Mmmmmm indulgence! And then just to show that we’re not totally cultureless, we went around the art gallery too. Upstairs was an exhibition called Making Worlds, which was really bloody cool. They had a seven minute animation loop called “City Glow” going on in a darkened room, which I totally could have watched all day. Although it made me feel far too Jessica Simpsony lame and pointless when I saw it was produced by Takashi Murakami and I was like “He did those brightly coloured Louis Vittion prints!”. Like I need to know that.

Eventually Heather and I parted company, and I went back to the hotel for naps and snacks, before KateH came to pick me up in the evening. We went to her beautiful house which is down by the water, and had a few drinks while we waited for the Checks and Grinspoon to get off the stage. Drive-thru burgers from Wendy’s ensured that our timing was perfect to actually get a park by the Waitakere Stadium, and we’d only missed two of Muse’s songs. We’re both so old now that we didn’t mind that at all. When did I stop queuing for things hours before they began? Was it around the same time that my knees started to go? But anyways, the gig was AMAZING. So good. When they played ‘Hysteria’, I had an auralgasm of the kind I hadn’t experienced since Dimmer. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! Totally matched up to my dirty dream that featured it prominently in it. And we saw Amanda and Darren, which was nice, and left when they turned on the lights. And then we were naughty and had an after-hours spa back at the hotel, which was fantastic for sore feet and knees, especially since it was merely lukewarm. Best Friday EVER!

The next morning was Saturday, and I slept in, loving the bed, before I decided it was time to drag my ass out into the streets. I strolled down to Gloria to have breakfast, where my French toast wasn’t as good as Heather’s, but the coffees were nice and I read the paper cover to cover. Then I got on the link bus to go to the museum, but I started feeling all nostalgic and weird, because of all the memories of the route (which are detailed in ‘Link’ in 101 Stories that I want to tell you of course) and so I decided to just stay on the bus and go all the way around the city. Well, I got off briefly in Ponsonby to buy vodka and bread, but you know what I mean.

Finally it was time for me to meet Martina and David and also Karl at the Queen Street bus stop to go to the Lynfield YMCA for the wrestling. Oh yes. I went west, life is peaceful there. I went west, people had terrible hair. The ride on the 257 was pretty full of nostalgia too, given the two flats I lived in on/off Dominion Road. It was also interesting hearing other people’s stories, like where they lost their virginities. And drinking vodka from a ginger ale bottle made me feel like a fourteen year old again, and who doesn’t like that? We got to Lynfield with some time to spare, so we hunted out food for the boys, and I sang the YMCA song a lot with the actions, and we took this photo in front of the vets. And now I might just revert into a photo montage to sum up the awesomeness of the wrestling, and my brand new boyfriend with a spectacular ginger mullet.

After a cold long wait for the bus, we all started falling asleep on the back seat. Nevertheless, Martina and David came back to my hotel room for a while, and helped me polish off the remaining food and vodka, and I stayed up late watching E! again. Good times.

On Sunday I was expecting to have brunch with Bopha and Clayton, but she was stuck out west somewhere, and Clayton made other plans, so after checking out at 12 and leaving my suitcase with reception, I returned to Gloria to have a very very long breakfast by myself with the Sunday Star Times. Finally it was getting near time to find myself an airport bus, so I went to get my suitcase, and I asked them where the airport bus stop was, and they told me down on Symonds Street. So I rolled my case up to a stop in the hot hot sun, but couldn’t find any markings on it to indicate that the airport bus might stop there. I rang Maxx, and they gave me the number for the airport bus company, and I couldn’t find a human, but it did mention the route, listing the Hyatt which was right next to the Quadrant, so disgruntledly I rolled back up to the Hyatt, and the doorman told me the stop was right in front of the Quadrant. Cheers clever desk staff! So I was hot and stinky and smelly then, and worried that I might not make it to the airport in time, when a shuttle pulled up in front of me and told me he’d drive me to the airport for $15, the same as the bus, since he was going that way anyway. Yay! That shuttle totally redeemed the shuttle in. And so that was the end of my time in Auckland. Very good fun indeed.

Okay, so a couple of weeks ago I had four nights in Auckland, and such is my obsession with Rockstar: Supernova and my lack of laptopness (update: it’s with Bond & Bond for hopefully fixage), and my surprisingly large workload (project managing. Me. Whodda thunk it?) that I have yet to write about it. So now I will.

Wednesday
I flew up on Wednesday 12 July in the afternoon. My shuttle picked me up way too early and my flight got delayed so I can happily report back that Wellington Airport, while better-looking than Auckland, is incredibly boring. Still, finding a $25 Whitcholls voucher to spend on magazines is nice. One of these days, I really must get myself a subscription to Q since it’s the only magazine that I read which I totally respect. I mean, apart from Pulp, of course, but I hear the music reviewer for that genuinely likes the Spice Girls, so what would she know? I was staying at the Comfort Inn again, this time in a one bedroom suite that captured all the afternoon sun, so that sucker was hot. Crazy Aucklanders thinking that they’re in winter when they so aren’t, everyone’s heater was turned up way too high. The suite didn’t have a bath, unfortunately, but the shower was oh-my-stars-I-think-my-scalp-is-being-caressed-by-angels strong. And it’s always nice when no one has written on the walls of the bathroom in their own blood (Smoo is so fucking feral. That’s not part of my Auckland story, but seriously, who the fuck does that? Bart cleaned it up for me when I expressed my total and utter disgust. I wish I’d taken a photo first, because it was actually kind of funny).

First up on my Auckland agenda was meeting Annabel for a drink up at the Odeon. I hadn’t seen her since 2001, but we’ve had many an online conversation since then so it didn’t seem too unnatural. Once the Odeon started giving us the dirty “We’re closing. Get the fuck out now” eye, we went over the road for another drink at Galbraiths, and I decided that I should platonically set her up with Heather, since they live near by each other and have a lot in common.

After that, it was back to my room to try and get a nap in before the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Holy crap that gig was overflowing with gaxys and hipsters! I’m pretty sure that every tight pair of black jeans, little op shop dress and Karen O haircut was in attendance. Drunkenly. And noisily. Holy crap there are few things I hate more than drunk 18 year old girls. I don’t understand why the fuck someone would pay over $60 for a concert ticket and talk the whole way through it. I had to restrain myself from punching people. I should have moved away, but as I was feeling so very old – I arrived while the Mint Chicks were playing and instantly cursed myself for forgetting ear plugs -, I was standing at the back behind the padded barrier and laughing at people who tried to walk through it. And wishing that I was Karen O, of course. I liked it when she screamed, because all the stupid bitches shut up for half a minute. They played songs I didn’t know, and drew out the beginnings to many things, and she writhed around under pieces of shiny material. I waved my fist in the air for ‘Phenomena’ and the long-intro’d ‘Y Control’ and got teary when they came back for their encore with ‘Maps’. I also spent a lot of time thinking about other gigs I’d been to at the St James, including the Roni Size gig where I took e for the first time, and the True Colours gig when I didn’t realise I was going to fall for the boy I’d just left sleeping. Afterwards I thought about taking the bus back up the hill but I couldn’t stand the gaxys anymore so I taxied back up for more glorious showers, even though my feeling-oldness had kept my moshing and therefore my sweatiness to a bare minimum. Man, no wonder it takes me so long to write these kinds of entries, I go way too overboard with details. Nevermind.

Thursday
The next morning I had brunch at Benediction with Elisabeth from Pulp and this time I successfully managed to keep from calling her Carla even a little bit. She said nice things about my reviews, which is always pleasant to hear (who’d have thought that good feedback would be like, good? Woah Jo, you’re out of CONTROL), and loaded me up with many more CDs, including the new Muse, which made me squee with joy. But on the inside of course, because I was pretending to be a cool Aucklander. A cool Aucklander who was nevertheless very impressed when the electronic bus timetables on K’Road proved to be quite accurate. I headed off to Grey Lynn to meet up with Jessie, and so I got to see her very posh offices. Then we went for lunch at Delicious, because I’ve always heard good things about it. Holy fucking crap, that place is delicious. We had bruschetta, and then I had roast beetroot ravioli with smoked ricotta, and every mouthful was like a thousand orgasms. We lingered long over it, and then gave the dessert cabinet the glad eye. After some quick agonisations, we decided to share a piece of pistachio praline chocolate ‘cake’, on the grounds that while their tiramisu also looked amazing, it was more common. The cake was pretty much like tiramisu anyway, with the added bonus of pistachios. Wow. It was like dying and being brought back to life and being fed really fucking awesome sweet desserty treats, without having to die and be brought back to life. My similes are fucking rocking today, I must add.

She dropped me off at Real Groovy so that I could cash in $50 worth of booksellers’ tokens on records: You are free by Cat Power, Funeral by the Arcade Fire, and most exciting of all, Horses by Patti Smith, which was the reason I bought a record player in the first place (now I can totally satisfy all my own fantasies – well as far as sitting on the floor playing myself Patti Smith records goes, anyway. Although my record player is a little too high up in order to do that comfortably. Perhaps I should rearrange my room). Of course I ended up having to spend twice as much as I had in tokens, and the same thing happened in Farmers when I was using vouchers to buy more foundation and also lip gloss because goddamit, I haven’t bought any in a very long time, thank you very much, and no I don’t have an addiction, fuck you. Then I went up to Rakinos to meet Sam for a coffee. Well, I had wine, he had water, and he talked a lot about sales techniques. It made me laugh.

After that it was back to my hotel to be incredibly disturbed by Juice TV (why oh why did anyone let Panic! At the Disco record a song that contains a line “haven’t you people heard of closing the goddam door?” in such dreaful all over the place timing? Their phrasing is like a thousand times worse than the Manic Street Preachers or Silverchair, and that’s saying a lot. Not to mention emo as fuck. I wish my hair was emo so that it’d cut itself. Heh), read, and nap some more. I love holidays with their rich nappy goodness. Around 7.30, I headed off to Annabel’s house where I had arranged to meet Heather before our dinner. This meant I got to meet Elton, which was very choice, and the girls got to meet each other too, instead of just stalking online. We had wine and watched Rockstar and Heather and I were having such a good time we asked if it wouldn’t be too weird if we got our food and ate it there. Annabel pulled out a folder of menus, so we took that as a sign, and Heather went and fetched us Meekong. Mmmmmmoney bags. Mmmmmmmmmmm so much tofu. Mmmmmmmmm goodness. Thanks for dinner Heather – it was an awesome birthday present. Eventually though we had to tear ourselves away as we were due to meet KateH at Match Bar to watch Sam play.

Sam had said that Match has a crappy crowd, but myyyyy god I hate the rich white trash even more than I hate the faux emo gaxys. Not that I judge people on sight or anything, but why the hell are you bothering to order Moet by the bottle when you’re so drunk that you break your glass every time you go outside for a cigarette? We were sitting close to the doors and counting broken glasses, and there were at least eight over the course of the night – from a fairly small crowd. Some of the guys got so drunk that they had to be carried down the stairs. Not pretty. It was lovely to catch up with KateH. We sat and talked for a long long time in egg shaped chairs, and then once they were done playing we went to Denny’s with Sam once he was done trying to get KateH to buy in to his pyramid scheme. By that stage it was after 3am (Did they play ’3am’? I’m pretty sure there was at least one Matchbox 20 cover. Ahh covers, good times. KateH and I laughed and laughed and laughed) and Auckland was drowning in mist. You couldn’t see the Sky Tower, or even more than ten metres in front of you. It was fucking excellent. So pretty and spooky (*).

Friday
Friday had been booked in as Heather’s and my Cultural Day, but I was feeling a little sloooooooow because I’d got to bed after 5am. I met her up at Altezzano and nearly fell flat on my face a couple of times. That whole walking thing is kind of tricky sometimes. We decided that the counter food on offer was not enough for people who’d had salty $18 tequilla cocktails the night before and so we made our way down to Galbraiths. It was about 11.45 at that stage, and Galbraiths was shut. Oh the horror! We needed our greasy NOW! Or rather THEN! Instead we strolled down to the House of Knives to browse amongst the shiny objects (but not the Shiny), having our minds boggled trying to figure out who would own a $1600 knife block. I mean, yes, good kitchen knives are important, and I’m gutted that Horrible Jonny stole my chef’s knife from the famous samurai sword village, and I wish that Del had gotten around to steeling my current knife before Bart broke up with her, but $1600? Woah. We strolled back up to Galbraiths and joined the throngs – and there were throngs – who were also doomed to waiting outside because it was late in opening, but eventually we made it in, ordered large plates of meat, and took our beers out to the back garden. The last time I was in the garden there, it was my last day of work at the Med School and I flashed my cow-orker so that I could win our staring match. The time before that was before the Placebo concert which is a whole diferent era of life (dates! and bedding! and being asked to be someone’s girlfriend!), and boy, Auckland sure likes to stir up the memories huh? It was a gorgeous day. I rolled up the sleeves of my long sleeved tshirt as we basked in the sun and the beer made me come up with the funniest/stupidest joke I’ve come up with in a while:

Q. What’s that noise coming from the BeeGees’ herb garden?
A. It’s just the chives talking.

Ha ha. Heather had chives on her shanks, obviously. Obbbbbbbbbviously. Our master plan called for us to be going to the museum right about then, but we weren’t sure if we could be bothered walking all the way to the domain from where we were at, since we were between two kinds of public transport that could have gotten us there, but then I had the genius idea of busing down to the art gallery and taking a link from there afterwards. Of course, my genius didn’t actually extend to remembering that the 27*s don’t go down Wellesley St, and so we got off on Symonds St and went for a very big long walk down and around Albert Park (and of course on the bus on the way home we realised that if we’d stayed on the bus we could have avoided that). Still, gorgeous day and walking is good for you. The fact that my feet had been screaming at me since Wednesday was irrelevant. I like the quiet echo of the art gallery, and I’m awed by the fact that they have stuff that’s almost a thousand years old, but there were no new exhibits in the old gallery, and then by the time we were done with that, our feet were too sore for the new gallery. We had coffee on the pretty terrace up amongst the trees away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and decided to call it a day then.

More nap, more Juice TV, some vodka purchasing, and then Jessie came over for a drink. She found me in my pyjamas, because they are pale pink with skull & crossbones on them, and what is more awesome than that? Pretty much nothing. Except for italics. We had a bit of a goss, and then cabbed it up to K’Road where my darling social secretary KateH had arranged an AUT dinner for me at Saigon. I even have photos of it, see?:

Brad, who was up in Auckland to shoot a short film for his course, Shirley who was off to Europe the next day, and Nigel who was still flush from winning
48 Hours and you can view his movie here

Andrew-from-Hamilton, KateH. Not pictured: KateH’s friend whose name I can’t remember. Or me.

I think the woman at Saigon was a little bit in love with me. She kept touching me. Maybe that’s just because – as usual – I played The Dominator and chose all our food. Mostly I did really well too. The noodles were a bit unnecessary.

After dinner, we went to The Musket Room in Ponsnobby. It was pretty crowded, but we managed to find ourselves a table and Brad ate one of the mozarella balls that they brought to our table, thinking that they were complimentary, until we got kicked out of that room because apparently it was a private function. We managed to find ourselves a big table though, and Clayton showed up, hurrah!

Shirley, leaving the next day. Clayton, not hating my guts.

We had some good talks about his career, and he’s doing all these amazing things which is awesome. I also invited him to Amy’s Pirates & Cheerleaders party for the next day, because he’s always loved of the young girls. I think Brad’d had a few drinks too because he gave me a big talk on what an awesome writer I am, and blah blah blah. I say blah blah blah not because it’s ever boring hearing about how awesome I am, but rather because I’d had a drink or two myself, and so I can’t remember all the correct wording, rather just the sentiment behind it. I really liked the Musket Room, apart from the private function kerfuffle and a few girls who were a bit too foolishly dressed (White summer dresses? Really? Sienna fucking Miller called to say you look ridiculous). They were playing ‘Fascination Street’ when we arrived, and then the music mix continued to be really electic, with lots of new wave and also indie and general goodness. Plus it was so dark that I had to read the cocktail menu by the light of an obliging young man’s cellphone. But all good things come to an end, and I found myself back at the hotel watching O.C reruns before I knew it.

Saturday

Jessie and Heather came to get me at some ungodly hour of the morning, and we set off for the French food markets somewhere in Parnhell. Jessie’s magnificant parallel parking skills came in handy, and I nearly died queuing for ages in an incredibly busy cafe to get pretty dreadful coffee, but once I had the cup in my hands, and a couple of quick wine tastings, things were much much better. We tried a multitude of tasty tasty things, talked to scensters and finally settled down with big containers full of hot gnochi. Gnoochi? I can’t spell. But I can eat. Oh boy can I eat. I can also take pictures, although Jessie doesn’t like to be on the internet, so I will show you a picture of Heather instead, because she never complains:

I did mention that it was early morning, right?

I can’t remember what I did on Saturday afternoon. I must have done something, right? Oh yeah, I went and camped out at Benediction again and read their magazines and drank their much better coffee. Heather had said that she’d come to Amy’s party with me, because I didn’t think I’d know many people, but then she wavered, so I promised to pay for the taxis and buy her vodka, and that we’d only have to stay an hour if it was terrible (although I knew it wouldn’t be) and so she duly showed up at my hotel to do semi shots of Russian Cocaine with me (licks of instant coffee, shots of vanilla vodka and then licks of sugar not off a lemon since we didn’t have any), lace me up and take photos of me dressed up as a pirate:

Mary-Kate, me, Ashley trying to escape

We cabbed out to Amy’s (“Give me an ARRRRRRRRRRRR”), found our way down an impossibly long driveway, and much red pirate punch and good times were had. I got to talk to JSR and Annette lots, and Amy had three costume changes. Her speeches were done in the form of “I have never”, personalised specifically to embarrass her, which was fantastic. I talked to new and interesting people, and Clayton showed up and did the same. And then I KICKED ASS at Singstar. I was undefeated on the night, and achieved my all-time personal best score of 9200 on ‘Material Girl’. Woohaa! Thank you so much for having me Amy, even though I’m sure I overstayed my welcome. I do that a lot.

Sunday

On Sunday the lovely Jessie picked me up so that I could have somewhere to leave my suitcase all day before she took me to the airport, and in exchange I bought her brunch at Deve. Heather popped in to see us so that we could giggle at her gossip, and then she took me to her house where I sat on her bed in the sun, ate home made cookies and dozed a little for a while, before I went down to Occam to catch up with first Penny and then Bopha. Hurray! And then I cabbed to Heather’s to watch the Gilmore Girls and umm, now I really have to wind this up. Flew back in the evening, Anji picked me up. That’s all. I thought I had other bits and pieces to say, but apparently I don’t. I <3 the 09 though.

Friday 15; January, 1999

BIG DAY OUT BABY!!!!!!

So yeah, woke up early to make sure all the stuff was packed. I’d shaved my legs the night before, with a blunt razor, so that I could wear a short skirt. Or a dress, a slip, AND a pair of shorts, just cos I’m not used to wearing short skirts and I figured I’d be more comfortable that way. Plus a sports bra – of course. Ohhh I know – I’ll go steal a picture of me from Annette. Gosh I’m stunning!

Yeah. So that’s me. Cropped cos it’s slightly more flattering that way. I’m so vain. Annette’s friends told me they loved my dress. So did some strangers who were standing next to me in the que to get in. We had a big long chat actually. . That was pretty cool. It was $10 from some shop on K’Road and I was SO stoked when I found it. It’s like my favourite thing to wear, along with my styley sunglasses, also seen in that picture. Anyways, back the the plot, huh?

I took along my ‘US MARSHALLS’ coat that I won from United Video, but then decided to leave it at Shirley’s when someone pointed out that if it rains, it rains and I’d get wet either way. Besides the coat was ugly, uncomfortable, and sported great big logos on it. So yeah, it would have been a bad move to have worn it.

We went met up with the Wholesome Tutorial Dsters at Shirley’s house, so that we could drop off all of Simon’s stuff out of his momma’s car, cos she was finally going home to Wellington. She’s lovely, but I got SOOOOOOO tired of being polite and chipper all the time. When we were driving down Queen Street, these louts in the car next to us were saying things like ‘Can I please put my head between your cunt?” (great England there!) and I was reduced to saying “Gee, thanks but no thanks” as opposed to whatever I would have said had there not been an adult in the car. The poor woman was like so oblivous. She didn’t notice any of the drug stuff in the Greenlane house, not even the smell. Anyways, I digress.

Shirley’s cool friend Nicole was there that I’d met on Tuesday night, and her two airforce friends Richard and ummm someone else. They were all drinking already – at 9am in the morning, I might add. In the taxi-van on the way to Ericsson Stadium, I got handed a bottle of Lemonade and Vodka, and who was I to refuse? I felt so fucking 14 again, drinking hard stuff from soft drink bottles. It was so strong it made me feel a trifle ill too, but never the less I knocked it back. Go Go Go Peer Pressure. It made me laugh a lot when the bottle got handed to Not-A-Team-Player-Nigel, who presumed it was water and took a big swig. Childish, I know, but I’m still bitter about what they said to me at my birthday party.

Anyways. Eventually we got to the stadium, and as soon as we pulled up, we had Absolutely Crackers thrown at us. That was cool, cos all I’d had for breakfast was that vodka. Hahhahahaha that’s so tragic, I sound so bad. All the Tutorial Dsters, being the wholesome people that they are, went off to see the Dead Flowers, who I completly hate, so Simon and I went to see 48Sonic, after arranging a meeting place to catch up with Dpeople again, should we feel the need. (No Comment. I like them, I really do, just they’re a bit much to take, all in a group. They make me feel really dirty and evil).

Anyways, so we danced to D&B for a while, which was kinda cool, but then we got bored so we went down to the main stadium to see Garageland – yay. I’ve seen them lots live and they’re cool, and it was choice to see them again since they’re normally in England. Anyways. Si got bored, so we were going to wander off, when he bumped into Mark and Scott. They fully ignored me, which made me laugh lots. I decided not to be as petty as them, so I went off to find the Dsters. BUT on my way up the stairs, I suddenly spotted someone I’d been hoping to see and with a tremendous yell of “JOOOOOOOOOOO” I launched myself at her. YAAAAAAAY.So that was faaaantastic. We watched the end of Garageland, and then decided to go ride on the Ferris Wheel. Passing by Mark, he dissed Jo too. hahahahahaha.

As we got on the ferris wheel, after lining up for ages, I remembered that I’m actually a wee bit afraid of heights, which made it SO cool, like flying into Wellington Airport when you think you’re going to drown, but you don’t mind all that much, because it’s so fucking cool and it really turns me on. Um. We figured that we had to kiss on the top of the ferris wheel, cos it was so romantic and neither of us had better people around. Again, that’s a kiss, and not a snog. Sorry to those who were looking for cheap thrills.

After that, we went up to the Supertop and saw the end of Jebidiah, while waiting for HDU to come on. There were these two old guys with their shirts off standing in front of us. I so wanted to take a razor to the back of one of them, and then when he started yelling out drunken appreciation for HDU, I wanted to take a razor to his wrists. Honestly I’m not reaaaaally a violent person. I just hate people bumping into me or being too close when I’m dancing. HDU were sooooo fantastic. For those of you who’ve never heard of them, which is probably most of you, they play really sonic, feedbacky kinda music. We were right at the front, just melting into the bass. I stuck my arms out and they trembled with the vibrations. I would have given anything to have been able to sit on the speakers. My heartbeat was overcome.

So that was astonishing. Afterwards Jo and I went to sit outside and cool off for a while because we were both dying. The clever girl had a water bottle so we found a place to fill that up. I bought a donut, but I really didn’t feel much like eating it, so I gave half to Jo. We sat in one of the semi-tunnels between the main stadium and the supertop, where it was nice and drafty, and waited for Matt(er)’s cellphone (which she was carrying) to ring. Eventually it did, so she bellowed out our location to Matt and the mysterious Thomas so that they could come and find us. Almost an hour later, they did manage to find us – after another phone call. Honestly, we gave them brilliant directions, so I don’t know what their problem was. Thomas Scovell isn’t a bot after all – apparently. I guess that’s maybe an inside joke, but hey, almost everything else in this journal is too, and you’re still here.

Okay, moving away from that moment of gloating. We stood and nattered for a while, before hiking down to the main stadium to watch Ash. Unfortunatly, the cop-a-jailbait-feelers were on, so Jo and I sat with our backs to the main stage, and the boys went off to do the mannish thing of drinking beer. I could have gone with them, thanks to the loverly Nicole who’d scored me an R20 wristband from a lax security person, but no, I didn’t want to. Instead we lay on the ground, and I was shocked to discover that I kept breaking out and singing along. Eventually I realised that there was no way I could stop myself, so I just sung out loudly, waving my arms around and generally taking the piss. Aaaaaarg the feelers suck. Such such wankers. Oh please can I be a fifteen year old groupie and suck their dicks?

Eventually, the boys came back from their lager, and Ash came on. Jo and I were wetting ourselves at their looooooooverly Irish accents. Mmmmmmmmm. They played “A Life Less Ordinary” which I completely love, and so that just went off fantastically. We danced in an empty area near the back for a while, but then us lasses decided to go in deeper, so we parted from the lads. Gil came up to us, and that was so choice, cos I was completly surprised to see her there. We didn’t chat for long but it was still cool. After hearing all the songs that we knew, we realised it was coming on 5pm, and time to head up to the Boiler Room for a Vision meeting. It started raining when we were up there, and I drank a red eye. Sonic Animation was playing, and the music was very very cool. We danced in the rain and it was terrific. Eventually people came and found us, so I met Annette, Brooke, Kay, and umm aaah I think that’s about it. Oh yeah, I met Annette’s friends, who told me they loved my dress, so I loved them. Yes I’m that easy. So that was pretty choice, AND I got to dance.

So yeah, Sample Gee came on and all these little fifteen year olds came running into the tent. Scaaaaaary shit. I so so hate Sample Gee, so I got impatient, and really wanted to leave. Shihad were up next in the main stadium, so I went down with Jo and her friends to see them. Simon caught up with us then – Mark ignoring me again. Ouch. I’ll make you bleed and you’re bleeding now. (That’s Soulfly, who I didn’t see). But anyways, I was very impressed with Jon Toogood and the boys. I’m so glad I’ve seen them live now. They rocked. ‘Home Again’ is such a great song. “I’m here, you’re there, don’t mean I don’t care – I’m so sorry, I was miles away”.

Si went up to see the Fun Loving Criminals a little before me and Jo. Then I went to the bathroom on the way up, and so therefore got seperated. I arranged to meet her ‘where we’d been before’ in time for Marilyn Manson. The Supertop where the Criminals were playing was so smoky and hazy that I just couldn’t stay in it, especially when i didn’t see anyone I knew. I wandered around outside by myself instead, listening to the Headless Chickens on the really small stage, but I don’t like them so much without Fiona Macdonald, so I just went and sat in the tunnel cos it was nice and cool, and I wanted to save up my strength for my main reason for being there. It was just chance that Jo came back that way – she thought we were going to meet down in the main stadium. Fate is so kind. We went and got seats up in the main stadium next to more of her friends so that we could watch the Manson Show begin.

I was actually pretty disappointed in his set. I thought at least he’d be a good showman, but no! He had to keep going offstage to change his clothing, which just killed the pace of the whole thing, and from as far away as we were, there was nothing to see – even though I did have my contact lenses in (thank god). Jo left to go see Roni Size half way through, so I stayed and made disparaging remarks about Manson to her friend. That was amusing. The people running the big scoreboard were dissing him too, with stuff like “Marilyn – Boy George is looking for you” and “We CARE, Marilyn”. He got pretty cheesed off with it all, I think. Oh well. He didn’t play Tourniquet, the Dope Show OR Beautiful People, which are basically the only songs I know. So how was that fair?

Once I figured he was pretty much at the end of his set, I headed down into the ground, to get well set up for HOLE. YEAAAAH BABY, they’re the band I’ve been dying to see since I was fourteen. Courtney Love is one of my role models and all. I was so excited that I got butterflies in my stomach. I wanted to be in a good place so that I could actually SEE what was going on onstage, so I didn’t push too deeply into the crowd – plus since I was alone, I didn’t want to become a casualty. But then someone came up behind me and was like “move aside, young lady” and I turned around to see my friend Jodie, so that rocked. I went in deeper with her, her friend and the little brother. They were excited too. Hole took a long time to come out, but when they did, it was magic. She sang a few lines from ‘Pretty on the Inside’ solo, (“slut kissed girl, won’t you promise her smack; is she pretty on the inside, is she pretty from the back?”) then they launched into Violet. “When they get what they want, they never want it again” – the crowd went wild, jumping up and down to “GO TAKE EVERYTHING, TAKE EVERYTHING I WANT YOU TO”. A couple of songs into the set, I was completly seperated from Jodie and co, and I didn’t care. Nothing mattered apart from the beautiful woman and her band on the stage, and the songs that got me through my angsty angsty youth. When they played ‘Miss World’ she sang “I am the girl you know, the one who should have died” – an obvious reference to so many people blaming her for Kurt’s death. I almost started crying then. I love that song so much – it’s going to be played (ironically) at my funeral, and it was just so sad cos she was obviously (drunk and) upset. It’s such bullshit people who say that she killed Kurt. I reckon that people just can’t cope with the idea of having a strong female in power, and they have to find some way of tearing her down. I’m not normally a huge feminist, but I left the concert that night wanting to really make a stand. In between songs, and mocking Manson, Courtney told us how women only earn 62 cents to every dollar that men earn, but as a rock band, they were earning a dollar to every 62 cents guy fronted bands were making. She included such classic statements as “We’re the first female-fronted band to headline a festival since Heart” and “I love Eric – I just wish he had a vagina”. Apparently though, he’s got a really big dick, and he turned her down when she offered to fuck him for his birthday. I love Courtney. She’s so funny. And so tragic (not in a traj way, but in a true shakesperean sense of the word) as well. Before ‘Doll Parts’ she explained that she’d written the song for Kurt, when she thought he was leaving her for someone else (Kathleen Hannah perhaps?). Afterwards, she was like “I didn’t want to talk about this, but it’s just so stupid. Why did he have to go and do a thing like that?”. She mocked the audience for cheering so much when she flashed her (very nice) breasts. Well, I’ll admit I cheered too. I thought they were great. Very well formed. Some guy in the audience was stupid enough to call out that she was a slut – instantly everyone was like “fuck up, asshole”. Did he have a death wish or something? I think we were all pretty much under her spell. ‘Reasons to be Beautiful’ and ‘Dying’ formed a beautiful couplet just like on the album, ‘Celebrity Skin’ was greeted like an old friend. I’m sorry, I can’t really keep track of the order she played songs in. ‘Malibu’ was a whole lot better than I expected it to be, as was ‘Awful’. ‘Northern Star’ was heartwrenching. I think she played something from ‘Pretty on the Inside’ cos I remember feeling proud that I knew it and most of the other people wouldn’t but I guess that’s become invalid now cos I can’t for the life of me remember what song it was. They didn’t play much of ‘Live Through This’ which is a bit of a shame, because I do love that album dearly, but I also love ‘Celebrity Skin’ so I guess I’ll get over it. ‘Heaven Tonight’ was a gorgeous blast of pop. Courtney did a whole lot of talking. She had a girl lifted on stage – and of course the girl was crying. At the end, after repeatedly telling all the girls in the audience to “stop sucking your boyfriend’s cock and start bands. Make a dollar to their every 62 cents” she gave away her guitar, making the recipient promise to start a band. They went offstage after ummm I think it was ‘Use Once and Destroy’ and then came back for an encore, demanding that people scream more. Hey, I don’t begrudge them their rockstar moments. Courtney also threatened to stop playing if people didn’t scream more for their drummer – “one of the best in the country AND she has ovaries”. She also played a little song for Melissa, explaining how all the boys want her, but Melissa will never give up her power (she’s a lesbian). They really played overtime, so when Courtney came back for a last encore, the stage people wouldn’t give the rest of the band their guitars. She got mad and yelled at them – YAY, fuck coporate rock and all. So yeah, they came and played a roaring ‘She walks over me’. By that time I’d been pushed up really close to the stage, and I didn’t mind that I nearly died. It was so amazing. I felt so goddam empowered, and also really horny, but maybe that’s just due to the feeling of power I had. Which is a good thing, right? Anyways, the main stadium lights went on, a clear indication that it was finally over, so along with everyone else, I trudged up the stairs out of the stadium.

Everyone was trying to cram themselves into the Boiler Room to see Fat Boy Slim, but a) I don’t like him and b) I was nearly in tears from my religious rebirth, so I went and sat outside the main gate, where I was supposed to meet all the dsters at the end of the day. It was cool while I was sitting by myself, but once Trudie and Shirley came along, I felt really stink. They were sitting there going “oh yay Fat Boy Slim” and I was just turning my snobby little nose up at them, dissing all the stuff that they’d liked. I was so unbelievably lonely, because I wanted to share my Hole experiance with someone and they’d written it off. So I didn’t want to talk, which meant they thought I was sick. I called up Jo on Trudie’s cellphone, because she was who I wanted to see more than anyone else in the world, but she hadn’t been at Hole either so there was no one that could know what I was feeling. It really really sucked.

Anyways,eventually we found the whole group of D people, and set off to find ourselves a taxi van to take us back to Shirley’s. Walking down the road I spotted Matt and Thomas, and Jo with them, so I was really happy and got to get my hug after all (I’m such a little kid). But I couldn’t talk to her for long, cos all of D were motoring ahead. We walked miles before managing to hail a taxi, but that’s okay. I talked to Nigel’s friend from Hamilton all the way home, about the Outback and similarly scary places. Nichole let me sleep in her bed so that she could have cuddles with Richard. Hey, I’m not complaining. Except that I couldn’t sleep for ages because my feet hurt so much. Still, it was worth it all to have seen Hole. Wow. My god. Wow. A rebirthing experiance. I just wish I could have shared it with someone. But still, I shared it with me. And hey – I’m WORTH a dollar to every 62 cents.