Hubris.co.nz

So I know that I have yet to write about my Big Day Out weekend, but I’m hoping I will do that tomorrow because quite frankly, I am too damn tired to do it right now, because it will be a lot of effort, and will require flickr links, and pillaging Lisa’s photos and all that sort of complicated stuff which I don’t have the brain capacity to do right now, but suffice to say that a good time was had by me.

Monday was of course Anniversary Day, and I’d realised the night before when I was starving that Anji still had my car, so I got her to come over and pick me up and we went to Elements for brunch. After dropping her off in Newtown and grocery shopping, I spent too much time fucking around at home reading the paper so that by the time I got my ass out to the south coast the sun was hiding and the wind had come up something fierce. Nevertheless, I plunged into the ocean and spent 15 minutes or so kicking and flailing frantically to keep my legs and hands from going numb while floating up and down on some pretty fiercesome waves. It was fucking fun, but ohmygod so fucking cold.

I can’t remember the rest of the day, which suggests that it wasn’t all that. I do know that there was spinach & cashew pesto involved somehow, and perhaps a steak, although perhaps that was the next day. And celery! I’ve never prepared celery before (because wow, it’s so hard topping and tailing it and vaguely stick-ifying it!) but I felt like a salty treat and thanks to Jane‘s article about better foods to crave during a hangover or PMS (that is the awesome thing about Jane – it’s not all “boiled egg, wholemeal toast, steamed lettuce” diet, it acknowledges that you’re a human being and will drink until you puke – and then gives tips for how to feel better in the morning) I knew that celery was salty.

The next day, I was supposed to go to work again, but after sitting on the edge of my bed for half an hour being unable to reach out and grab the clothes that were an arm’s length away because I just couldn’t, I had to give in and text my manager and tell her I needed a mental health day. In fact I ended up feeling really fucking nauseous anyway. I did have a counselling session at 1.30pm, so I kept that, and holy fuck, that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I found that I was talking without cohesion, and that really annoyed the narrator in me, because while I was throwing out a series of ideas about things that may have been linked, I didn’t feel like I was making the links clear, but I think she knew what I meant. We discussed the semantics of things again, with me not knowing the word that I thought I should use, and she declared it without a second of hesitation, and I was like aaaargh, and then I laughed at my body language, the tension in me, and we were laughing at the end at something completely inappropriate, but fuuuuuuck, it was a hard time. And part of me doesn’t even want to write about it here, even this obliquely, but i want to keep it as a record. And why do anything in private? If only I hadn’t left that mp3 player on the plane, I could podcast my counselling sessions. Heh. Wow, that’d be comfortable for all parties involved. And yeah, you’d get to hear me cry some more.

I was worried after my manager’s text about needing to talk the next day, but of course I shouldn’t have been, because when I told her what was going on, she was lovely (as of course a sane person would have realised anyway), and I said that I expected to be straighted out and normalised by the end of the week, but what I needed most was more work to do. As it happens, I seem to have actually achieved a lot this week, making many changes to the website, and taking on new projects, and also making my cow-orkers laugh quite a few times. Today I helped three people set bookmarks in their browser, which made me go “Really?” but I suppose not everyone has a tertiary qualifcation in Multimedia.

When I got home on Wednesday Smoo had cleaned the house and I nearly cried at that, but instead I decided to tackle the huge pile of dishes, and then scrub the bathroom. Briar helped me by drying, and it’s nice that she’s moving out so amicably to go and flat with her brother, and that while she’s taking her bookshelf which fits my books perfectly, she is leaving me her blender because she has another brand new one, and she knows how often i use it, so hurrah for that!

Yesterday I went for dinner with Karen and Anji at Siem Reap and we plotted Mum’s birthday present. We were going to send them to Martinborough for her birthday weekend, but we might send them up to the Wairarapa Food & Wine Festival instead on the 17th of March, except that it sounds like so much fun we’re looking at booking a house that can sleep five and tagging along on their romantic weekend. Heh.

Today after work, much to my disgust I went to the Loaded Hog to meet up with D&D, because Dave’s cow-orker was having goodbye drinks there or something. There was no sun so it was cold outside on the balconey, but coronas were two for $7.50, and when I only ordered two and was polite the bartender said that he loved me and that I was his favourite as it was crowded with stupid rude demanding people. Then when we went to Boulot Gabe welcomed us with happy new years and cheek kisses, and addressed me as “Pretty”. Awww. Bart and Blair joined us for a bit, and pizza was eaten and shit was talked. You know, the usual kind of Friday stuff. When I left I got a taxi with a green sign, and made sure that I repeated the name of the company – Amalgamated – to myself several times. I didn’t talk to the driver either, even though that felt somewhat unnatural, but it made me really fucking angry last week when I was telling my friend about how a taxi driver had groped my leg as I was paying right before Xmas, and the friend was like “were you flirting with him?” and I was like “NO!” but the point was that even if I had been, which I wasn’t, he still had absolutely no right to do that, and I wasn’t to know that I was putting myself in a bad situation when I thought I was taking the safe option home. My counsellor agreed with me that it’s okay if I decide to only use Combined from now on and call one if there’s not one on the rank, and I decided that as long as I try to make sure I don’t discriminate in other areas, the number of bad experiences that I have had with a particular kind of taxi driver means that am I well justified in trying to avoid them. That said, my cab tonight was only $8.70 when it’s usually like $13. Go Amalgamated! And if I remember to call them on 3888 4000, then I can call and complain should I need to as well. I know I am ranting, so I will return to my 90210 dvds now. But I will say that tonight I am in love with Cold War Kids’ “Hang me out to dry”, and if you have perhaps been living in a basement worried abotu an atomic bomb for the past 35 years, look up “dick in a box” on Youtube. That is, of course, mostly a suggestion for D&D who apparently actually read my journal and I never knew until tonight. Party.

xojo

The awesome side of having depression is that when you start to get better, it’s like, so fucking awesome. Yes, this is pretty obvious, but when things have been bad, and you take steps to make them better, and all of a sudden you feel good, you can feel this amazing sense of inner peace and feel like you’re glowing, and everything, just everything is fine, and it’s so fucking good. I’ve had this recently while watching the sun set at Lyall Bay, and when I had Lisa and Brad and Bart around the table for the flat dinenr roast on Tuesday night and my face was starting to ache from smiling, and today while floating in the ocean tryng to pretend that my toes weren’t going numb from the cold. And I know it won’t always be like this, that there are going to be more ups and downs all the time, but you know, let me have my moment in the sun. I deserve it.

And yes, there have of course been ups and downs. I had two days off work last week because I was dizzy and nauseous or just wanted to hide under the covers all day, but the good news is that my blood tests came back clean and when I went to the doctor’s to get a half-hour long blood pressure test, it turned out that I’m down to 118/74, so they didn’t even bother doing the whole half hour thing. Wahoo! I saw my counsellor for the first time on Thursday, and she’s going to make me an appointment with their career counsellor as well as she was quick to discover that I get depressed when I’m bored. She ventured a theory that I rely too much on other people to validate me, and I was like “well, since you said it, it must be true”. Heh. And then I cried when she asked me what I was good at, and what the ideal me would be like. One thing that I’m not good at is talking about what I’m good at without tagging on caveats to everything I say, like “I’m good at writing – but I don’t do it often enough”, “I have a tremendous capacity to love and be compassionate but there are many people that I think I have let down”. I like big buts and I cannot lie. And I talked a lot about feeling like I was 12 years old again and she implied that I was hanging out with a bad crowd and I laughed. The one way that I thought she wasn’t as good as Kalpana who I used to see in 2002/03 was that it was obvious she was looking at her watch all the time, wheras Kalpana had this tremendous ability to guide conversations perfectly in the available time without feeling like anything was rushed, and finding perfect ending places. But that’s okay, I’m sure it’s something I’ll get used to.

Just like I’ve got used to not drinking. Two weeks sober now! Who knew that was possible? Sure, dinner with my family on Friday night was a bit weird, but I’m going to blame that on the disappointly tiny portion of food that the vegetarian dish at the Manhattan Lounge was, and the fact that Horrible Gay Jonny was working behind the bar there, and that made my skin crawl so much that I got my parents to pay for my meal so that I wouldn’t have to talk to him. Brad brought over bubbly on Tuesday to celebrate him landing his first commercial, so I thought I’d have a half a glass to celebrate with him, but after a couple of sips Sebastian knocked my glass over, and so I figured that was a sign. And I tried to have a half glass of red wine tonight with my cumin gouda, but it just didn’t feel right. Of course, it might be that the wine’s oxidised or whatever it is that happens to wine that’s bad since I opened the bottle two weeks ago. I’m planning on drinking again when I get to Auckland, but until then, it’s a no. Did I mention that my doctor warned me to be careful if I do drink on the citalapram “because it lowers your inhibitions quicker, and then come the calls to your ex boyfriends” and I laughed and laughed and laughed. I’m now up to 3/4 pill a day, or I suppose 15mg. I was expecting to go from a half to a whole after a week but I think because I’ve been so nauseous she thought it would be better to take it slower with easing me on it.

I’ve been scatty and spaced out at work, but tonight I finished a thingie that I’ve been trying to work on, so I feel good about that. I also sanded down the other little bookshelf and spraypainted it gold. I bought magazine holders the other day, and sorted out my magazines today. My car is working again although I suspect a new alternator will be on the cards when I get my warrant in February. I found a new flatmate yesterday who I have a really really good vibe about – she works for the same ministry as me, loves Sebastian, wants a home not a house, said she was addicted to Buffy and smiled at my STD paintings. Now I’ve hung them, although they’re not straight. I feel like I’ve been achieving things, and that is good, even if it’s just doing the dishes, doing laundry, going swimming in the ocean. I found a headscarf to wear to the Big Day Out and I’m looking forward to coming in my pants at Dimmer the night before, and then again when Muse play, as long as they play ‘Hysteria’ which once featured in a dream of mine where I was making a porn movie with a guy who looked like Jesus, and we were timing our anal sex so that we’d both come right when this particularly impressive bit of guitar comes in in the song. And also I’m annoyed that I wrote two ‘in in’ together like that, because that’s so Danielle Steele with her bad writing skills being all about the “had had” and I fucking hate that. I also hate that I read two Danielle Steele books in a row, but I’m blaming that on the scattiness and blaaaaaaah of adjusting to my pills, like the proliferation of teen movies I’ve been watching. Much better are Jasper Fforde’s books about the Nursery Crime Division – The Big Over-Easy has Jack Spratt solving the case of who murdered Humpty Dumpty and the sequel The Fourth Bear speaks for itself. Sooo good. And full of word jokes which make me hot.

And that was far too long a paragraph, wasn’t it? Now all I have to do is tax returns for 2005 and 2006 because apparently they owe me money from 2001 (which is odd since Nicky did my tax returns for 2002 and 2003 and they said nothing then), set up a term deposit account and get my stuff back from everyone who has it (my camera is at the Aro house – I’m hoping I can sweet-talk Lisa into retrieving it for me) and reply to people’s emails and I’ll be like, totally on top of my life. For now. And that’s nice.

You know, I’d decided that I was going to start this entry out by pondering how the hell people did the Big Day Out without cellphones, but then I was forced to remember. Oh yeah, if you have my number, can you please text me your name (or email me your number?)? Yeah, that’s right, it’s new Sim Card and phone time. Same number though. Stupid fucking D List ‘celebrities’.

But we can scoot backwards in time, to Thursday morning and I’m leaving the backdoor key out for our downstairs neighbour Eve so that she can look after Sebastian that night since Anji had already flown to Auckland for work, and loading my bags into Lisa Fur’s car boot and folding myself into the backseat because Fran was in the front. And then it’s a week later, and I’m switching from present tense into past, because I’m not a choose-your-own adventure book, as much as I’d like to be. A quick study guide to the BDO was playing on the stereo, and there was a monkey to show the country to. Goats were thrown at first sightings of mountains, which resulted in the people in front of us pulling aside to let us pass. The toilets in Tirau are still the best place in the country to stop, and driving into Auckland still sort of feels like a kick in the guts six years later. Lisa’s car made it on one tank of petrol though, which is incredible.

Heather wasn’t home for Fran to be dropped off to, so we headed to the place that Lisa and I were staying, the Comfort Inn on Newton Road. We’d scored ourselves a big two bedroom apartment with parking for only $65 a night each, sweet sweet accomodation candy. Heather showed up and had some beers, and we headed up the road to Gina’s for dinner. If you’re not familiar with Auckland, Gina’s is (in)famous for its ridiculously hot and over-the-top waiters. The food’s pretty good too, but it’s insanely busy, and took a long time, and it was very very crowded. We went back to the apartment and had more wine. I love the litre bottles of Banrock.

The next day it was Friday and therefore bdoing day. Lisa and I went to meet up with Heather and Fran at Roasted, and then I called an incredibly incompetant taxi driver who took half an hour to find us and kept calling me on my cellie. We got there just before Pluto started. I forgot how many people go to the Big Day Out. There were a lot of people there. Pluto were okay. They played some new songs which was nice, and drums were pounded very heartily, but I just don’t know if their heart is in it anymore. Then I put my earplugs back in (hurray for being a grown-up!) and waded through the crowd trying to get out of the stupid (but I’m sure it’s important when the stadium is actually full) D-Barrier. Texts to Lisa found her again, and we went and got our passes for the Immortals Lounge, courtesy of a wonderful friend.

I felt special as we got to ride the big glass elevator up to the sky. We got to use cleanish bathrooms, and the bar queue was short and there was a better selection (but only Lion Red or Steinie, so I saw that it would be a beer-free day for me). The view was very choice. Then it was time to skootch back down to the Green stage for Sleater Kinney. I wish I knew their music better. If ever there was going to be a replacement for Hole in my “strong women make me feel strong” listening, it could very well be them.

Breaks Coop were playing next, and I’m not a repetitive old woman so I decided to run away quickly to a clean bathroom up in the Immortals Lounge again. I checked the time on my cellphone while I was up there, and bought a drink, and then discovered that my phone was gone. Rad. I went through my bag and looked on the floor by the bar. No phone. Excellent. Then Lisa showed up, luckily, and after asking at the bar after my phone, we went down to see the Go! Team. It made me feel very grumpy though, losing phones sucks. I was going to try calling it from Lisa’s phone but realised I’d never hear it.

Then the Go! Team started, and they were fantastic, and I had a boogie, despite my knees being already like “hey lady, remember us? We don’t like this kind of behaviour one little bit”. I wish I could shake my bottom like Ninja. Fuck it – I wish I was Ninja. Their album is definitely going on my ‘to buy’ list.

I can’t remember when it was that the Brunettes started to play, but I took a photo of all the people on stage.

Someone said that there were 20 people in the orchestra (You don’t expect me to actually try and count do you?). Their rider can’t go very far. I wish I’d stayed for them, but I’d already realised that I am much too old for the Big Day Out.

My knees led me over to the fence by the beer area and I sat down for the Magic Numbers and took some Nurofen Plus. Mmm codeieney. But people don’t look at the ground when they’re walking, and they kept kicking or tripping over my legs – despite the fact that there were people sitting all the way along against the fence, and it was just pissing me off too much so I decided to pop up to the Immortals Lounge again. More liquor and more codeine was taken, and I pulled an armchair up to the window at the back of the lounge and settled down for Shihad:

They played their standard fare. If I hadn’t been so doped up, I might have been a little sad that I wasn’t in the mosh, but then again, if I had been, I wouldn’t have been able to see how fantastic the crowd’s arms looked when they did ‘Pacifier’. But I was, so that was okay. When I felt lonely I had another drink. Haha excellent. Then a guy who was Kateb’s brother’s best friend growing up who’s now in a band that I interviewed for Pulp a while ago came over and hugged me, and tried to introduce me to his fiance, but given that she was a friend of Kateb’s at uni, I already knew her. And that was the only people at the Big Day Out who I bumped in to, apart from Jessie. That was strange, cos I am used to seeing so many people I know there, and I was actually a little bit afraid of who I might bump in to.

Franz Ferdinand played, and they were pretty average, and my arm chair was very comfortable. Then Iggy started, and I was like “what the fuck am I doing? This is the Big Day Out and I’m sitting up here like those wankers that I hate at gigs who only go because they get in free, and they don’t even like music”, and plus the BDO book talked about a cocktail bar in Lilyworld, so I went off to find that. Apparently, the cockails are only in Australia. I also couldn’t find the Krishna food stall, so I had a $9 kebab instead because I realised that I’d had one TEN YEARS AGO at my first Big Day Out, and washed it down with a Lion Red, Mate. I contemplated having a dance, but I was too chicken/sober to dance by myself with the models. Did I bitch about the girl carrying the Nova bag yet? I mean, hi, you’re wearing high heels and an expensive looking dress, and you’re stick thin and gorgeous. We get the point. You’re a model. You don’t need to tell us what agency you’re with. If I was to bitch about the other 30,000 people there though it would take far too long. I’m too old and jaded. And I was also kind of lonely. It’s fine to be by yourself at the Big Day Out if it’s your choice, but if you’re just a lost puppy who can’t contact people cos no one has handed your phone in, then it sucks.

I sat at the back of the stadium and took photos of the human lightening people, who could have been a lot more impressive than they actually are:

Then the White Stripes started.

They looked kind of cool, but the sound was craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaappy at the back there, and I couldn’t stomach going up closer.

I went to go and wait at the rendevouz spot that I’d (phew!) arranged with Lisa earlier in the day, and then Jessie was there, and I was like YAY and hugged her and felt a bit like I did that one time at the Gathering when I found Katy and Anji after I’d been lost for a couple of hours and thought tents were frozen bodies from Titanic and that there were Jim Henson creatures walking around me and I’d lost the ability to speak, except, you know, without the acid. And Lisa showed up, and Fran, and we got told off for walking on the road by a policeman, and we took a taxi and we went home, hurray! It was strange to leave a Big Day Out and still be able to walk and not have my ears ringing,and I wasn’t too badly sunburnt except for my nose. I am no longer hardcore. I miss being hardcore.

On Saturday Lisa and I met Heather and Jamie from NZM at Benediction. I’ve decided that avocado on turkish bread is quite possibly one of the best breakfasts ever. Then I made Heather come to St Lukes with me, and I used a Farmers voucher leftover from Xmas to get myself a new phone. Then, of course, I went back to her house to charge my phone and check my email, because that’s the only reason I’m friends with her. I also got to watch Alt TV, and I wet my pants in delight at seeing a Guns’n Roses video that I’d forgotten even existed. Awesome.

I went home and had a bath and tried to nap but it was too hot so I read magazines and texted people back going “who is this?” because of the lack of numbers. Exciting, yes, I know. Luckily my social secretary KateH had booked us all for a dinner at 8pm at Canton. Holy crap I love the food there, it’s soooooo good. And for $16 each, we certainly ate plenty. Then people came back for some more drinks, and someone called me trying to arrange a booty-call for the morning (*) and I was metaphorically speechless.

This is Shirley and KateH and her boyfriend Andrew:

This is Maree, who was up from Hamilton for the weekend:

This is J.C and Nigel, who is doing his best J.D Fortune look, while claiming never to have watched ‘INXS: Rockstar’:
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What’s more interesting than looking at photos of people you don’t know? Relating dialogue from the night? Yeah, so I’ll stop this now. On Sunday Lisa and I drove back down to Wellington. I like visiting my friends in Auckland. I love the Arcade Fire. The end.

Okay, one day I will finish part three of The Decemberer and you’ll know how I spent the rest of my holidays. But it’s on my computer at home, and frankly, I’m way too busy.

Why am I so busy? Well:

1. I’m driving up to Auckland on Thursday with Lisa Fur and Franrose for the Big Day Out. Hurrah! On the Saturday night, I’m having a dinner at Canton in Kingsland and then drinks at our apartment in Newton, so you should get in touch and come along. If you can’t make it out that night, I’d still love to see you. Keep an eye out for me if you too are bdoing. I may very well be wearing a lime green bandana to save getting a burnt scalp.

2. I’m looking for two flatmates since Anji is moving out – you can see the ad on flatfinder that features photos of my sexy couches and dining room. If you know someone who’s looking for a place, likewise, let me know. I think I’d probably prefer boys, and I promise not to sleep with them. I’m reformed.

3. Brad’s having a fundraiser to raise funds (fancy that!) for his secondment to a Philly theatre company, and you should come along. It’s on February 10, so it’s a while away, but I’ll pop the invite up here for now anyway:

4. I’ve been asked by my manager to set S.M.A.R.T goals for the next three months at work. I have to tell her what they are next week. Help! What are my goals? Do I want to learn software? Are there any courses I might want to do? OOOH! I want to learn Maori. And also how to macronise properly. Rock. But more ideas would be welcome.

Tuesday 16; February, 1999

Geri: “Boys, boys, boys – have you not heard of the word ‘compromisation’ ? ” (Spiceworld)

Okay, so that wasn’t actually said to me today, but I said it to Trudie for reasons that escape me. And I just love it. So yeah.

I got up at 7AM today – that’s like about three hours after I finally managed to sleep. Scary shit man – I so had to force myself to get up then cos I knew if I slept another 20 minutes I’d never get out. So yeah, I got my act together, to go into tech for Orientation. It was weird taking the bus in with Clayton – I guess I just need to get used to the fact that I have flatmates now with common interests, rather than the evil twins Kelli and Celeste.

It was choiiiiiice seeing everyone again, and seeing that Jodie was still alive after I lost her in the mosh during Hole at the BDO. Orientation was a fucking waste of time, man. We just got dealt some big speech about harrassment while we all sat and took the piss. Still, it was a good gossip oppotunity, which is always a bonus. Afterwards we went exploring the all brand spanking new B Block. It’s so COOL man – it smells so nice and new, and I picked up a free diary which smells nice and new too. Here, you can have a look at it. This is my timetable for the first haf of the year.

Cruisy huh? Just in case you wanna get really stalky on me, most of my lectures are held at the main campus, and most of the tutorials are in the State Insurance Building. The classes I’m doing are Radio Production, Mass Communication, TV Production and Public Relations Communication. Good shit huh? I certainly hope so anyways.

So yeah, once we’d finished marvelling at the campus, I did a little unsuccessful stalking via cellphone, and went off to run errands with various people. I got one of those funkyass bus passes, and then I went to collect my exams from last year. My god, I got 75% in my Mass Comm Exam! I rule sooo much given that I didn’t study at all for it. And I did okay in Politics too, given that I didn’t study for that either. We won’t even discuss Principles of Writing, except to say that whoever marked it commented “the unstructured nature of this is probably in part due to its subject matter” – ie – if you want better marks, don’t write about spooky acid trips.

Mmmmmm. Then I went to the Cut Above Hair Academy, and got my hair cut. I so loooooove it there. It’s only $10 and that includes a shampoo. Mmmmmmmmmm I’m in Heaven when people are playing with my hair – I love being pampered. So yeah. I heard my cellie ringing when I was having my hair washed, but obviously couldn’t get up to answer it. I’d also been getting annoymus pages – but only cos Clare was too stupid to remember to sign her name (I still love you though). Anyways, the haircut was lovely, and she spent like half an hour blowdrying it so it looked really styley. There’s nothing like a new haircut to make you feel vain.

Took the bus home then, and went to bed. I heard Clayton and Leyton come home at some stage, but didn’t especially feel like talking to them, so I went back to sleep. When I woke up, it was around 6pm and no one had started on dinner, and horror-of-horrors – Clayton was on my computer! I walked into the dining room and was like “YOU ARE SO FULLY BUSTED” – he even took me seriously for a moment too.

I decided I couldn’t be bothered with dinner, so eventually I ate toast. Leyton kept harping on at me about how we were going to pay for food and stuff, since he wants to do seperate things, but also communal – just to reaaaaaally complicate things! But I guess it’s good that he’s doing his own thing, because I was talking to Jeremy today who used to live in the same hostel and he goes “Leyton? He eats like a horse”. Ewww and then I overheard Leyton and Clayton talking, and L was saying how he used to be nicknamed the horse, and C was making rude jokes and I was like eww ewwwwww ewwww. I’m such a snob, I know. But honestly, if y’all met this guy………

I hid out in my room a lot of the evening, doing my time table. Oh, and one of the ex-tenant’s MOTHER came around to get the landlord’s number – I thought it’d be a bit cruel to tell her that her son had been growing dope in his room (I asked her which bedroom was his). She called the guy who had the room that I’d see kilos of dope in a Mongrel – or some word like that. Hahahah go Lady, go! She was really nice.

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.