Tag: drinking


A Weekend in the City

April 2nd, 2007 — 9:22am

If I tell you that the highlight of my weekend was squeezing a lump on my arm and actually hearing an audible pop as it gushed, you might think that I had a very bad, very lame weekend. But no no sir, you would be wrong. My Saturday was totally kickass. I slept in until 2, and then rolled around on my bed for another hour listening to Public Address Radio. Since the only time I listen to the radio is for about six minutes as I get dressed on weekdays, and since that’s Raido Active, I’d totally forgotten how fucking annoying radio advertising is. But nevermind. I learnt something interesting that I thought I would remark on, but I totally can’t remember what it was. Nevermind. I did absolutely nothing else all day. Fuck it was awesome. Even my supermarket trip was just about buying snacks and not weekly groceries. The only person I talked to aside from Smoo in the evening and Sebastian who didn’t talk back was the person at the checkout. Bliss! I just read the paper, and caught up on assorted television that’d been recorded over the week, and veged and veged and veged. I didn’t even feel bad about not cleaning. BEST DAY EVAH.

Today I went for brunch at Fidel’s with Mum and Neil and Karen. There was no parking, and that was stressful, but once I finally made it in, I got to say hi to Fia, so that was nice. We talked more about going to Rarotonga for Neil’s 60th. I want to stay here, as I have no money anyway, and am completely reliant on getting a loan to pay for my ticket, so why not dream about staying in a house that costs $3000 a week? That’s even more than our apartment in Tokyo was! I also did washing, changed my sheets, cleaned the house and prepared a Beef Burgandy for our flat dinner party tomorrow. Productivity is nice.

Just in case you were thinking that I’d become too healthy, parehaps I should tell you about my Friday night. I went to Social Club Drinks, but Lani wasn’t there, and after talking to Jarrod just long enough to find out that he can bring Brazillian porn to Country Club Brazil (April 14! Come!) I felt like a no-mates, so I ran away to Arizona to find Lisa. Man, Arizona is a horrrrrrrible bar. But obviously not too horrible for Jimmy, whom I spotted as I cam out ofo the bathroom. So obviously Lisa and I had to get away from him, so it was off to Vintage Bar (underneath Zibbibo, part of the old police cells) to meet up with D&D, and to drink cocktails made with Absolut Pepper, Franjelico and Passionfruit. YUM! Just like Duffman, I was thrusting drinking the pain away. Jimmy showed up again, so we had to run away to Mighty Mighty. Lisa did her own running away then, as Dave did a little while later, but luckily Bart showed up to make up the magic three. We had many jugs of beer, and then Dyl decided to buy us pizza at Scopa. There were no tables for us for a while, except for the foozeball table, so of course we played. And then we ate. Tasty tasty tasty. Bart kept freaking me out because his moustache kept making him compliment me, so I decided to get my own back. When I came out of the bathroom, I pushed him back in his chair and made like I was about to start lapdancing, and his face was like “eeeek” and I was like hahaha, and that was hilarious. Then we went to the Southern Cross where really they shouldn’t have served us, and/or kicked us out earlier. Glasses were broken when boys decided to drink without using their hands. I fetched straws. Walking towards Mt Vic to find a taxi for me, I spotted a cute boy on Vivian St, and asked him to come home with me. And he did, and we “watched the simpsons together”. Yes, it was Smoo. And those quotation marks weren’t needed. LITERALLY. But let me pretend for a second that I have a chance of actually finding someone to sing Bloc Party songs to. I mean the happy ones, not the ones about empty hollow sex. Mostly.

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On being That Girl

January 2nd, 2006 — 8:21am

Because I am so good with the drama, I chose New Year’s Eve to do that whole hitting the rock bottom thing. For the past couple of months, I’ve been metaphorically skating on metaphorical thin ice, making excuses to myself about my various states of mind, like “oh, it’s just the post holiday blues” or “oh it’s such and such at work” or “oh, it’s blah blah blah” but the truth is of course that oh, it’s me. So I’m resolving to go back on antidepressants, because it just hurts too much with the way things are right now in my head. I need the noise to quieten up for a while.

I also might try to lay off the drinking too, because I think I have way overfilled my quota of tearful crying and freaking people out for the year. Yeah I managed that in less than 24 hours. Nice one. And now just as the ALAC ads promised I am full of remorse and just sheer fucking embarrassment about the way I acted, and now I want to hide in my bed and not face the people I was with last night ever again. Which is going to make it hard to find out if I left my camera at the house in Aro.

Thanks John Kirwan! Now is the hardest part while I wait to get an appointment with a doctor, and then go over my mental history, and blah blah blah. I think I want celepram again, which means dizziness and dry mouth, and curtailed orgasms at first, and then panic if I run out of a prescription. But it is still better than feeling like this.

My other resolution is to make sure I donate at least 1% of my income to charity. If we want the country to be all about the .7% of GDP then we gots to do our bit too. And yet I know that 1% is a pittance. I also resolve to cut country clubs back to one every two months, and to find something new and challenging to do. Specific huh?

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Seven Deadly Sins

November 23rd, 2005 — 5:51am

For Kate (Kate, do you have another name? There’s already too many damn Kates!) and Noizy and Llew, and for me, since this is all rattling around in my head right about now.

Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy and Pride. Which (if any) have you broken? Give examples.

Lust:
The example that first springs to mind when I hear this word could probably very well also fall under ‘wrath’, given the history involved, and how in that stall in the men’s room in a skanky goth bar I used to go out with the guy who was there with me, and also how I’d also fucked his wife who was banging on the door, so maybe I should wind the tape back to about four years before that, when I’d only pashed two boys, and I went to the movies for the first time with the gentleman in question. Just sitting next to him, our arms touching was so unbelieveably arousing that when I went to the bathroom and wiped, I was so wet that my hand slipped and I nearly punched the back of the toilet bowl. That was very unexpected for the girl that I was then.

I think it can sometimes also be hard to seperate lust from all the other things going on in my life, like needing other people’s approval to feel good about myself, or drinking too much, or needing to feel alive to combat antidepressants, or confusing love with sex, or having an overly developed sense of irony, or whatever. I suppose another example that would be appropriate here would be the first time that I hooked up with my stupid flatmate Ben III, and the following weeks. He wasn’t my type of guy – I mean, when I say he was stupid, he was stupid, but one night, he just smelt really really manly (read: sweaty) and the pheremonal connection was like “badoinga!”

On a slightly less disturbing note (I think), the character of Evan on The Secret Life of Us is so exactly my type that it hurts to watch the show cos I want to jump his bones so much.

Right now my head is full of pretty much nothing but lust. I haven’t had sex in a very very long time. Y’all didn’t think that I got OOS from working at a soul-destroying job with a really really bad computer set-up did you? Oh wait…

Gluttony:
This one is probably most apparent to everyone as something I have a problem with. The question then becomes “why is it a problem?” Quite frankly, I can’t imagine anything worse than being the type of person who would become obsessed with denying themselves the pleasures of food. To not know the joy of wine and cheese (CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEESE!), or fillet steak, or fresh baked bread with butter, or even dhal with fresh coriander on top or avocado on soy & linseed bread is just freaky. I use the last two as examples of how food can be goooood and good for you at the same time, but I suppose gluttony comes mostly in the form of ‘bad’ food. The thing is though, if you’re going to eat the ‘bad’ food anyway, then why hate yourself for it? Why not enjoy it? I would like to stop mentally beating myself up for it. I have accepted the fact that I am never going to be thin – I was born huge, for starters – so I would like to enjoy my life. At the same time, partly because I so often don’t enjoy my life, I’m more than a little nihilistic – like, if I’m going to get hit by another bout of crippling depression and decide that this time I can’t get through it, then why should I have skipped the cake? And please don’t start in on the whole “but exercise and healthy food can make you happier” crap, because I know that. That’s why I went vegan, and that was great for a while, although half of my enjoyment of that was a big “Fuck you, dairy and meat! I don’t need you anyways!” defiance that wore off. There’s so much cognitive dissonance going on in my head at all times that I could easily present a seminar on it in relation to the LTSA ads. Oh wait, I did that already…

And of course, gluttony doesn’t just apply to food, cos there’s drinking too. I like to drink. I will probably drink more than you will if we go out together. I like the taste of the things that I drink. I like the social aspect of it. I also like the feeling of confidence it gives me, which is not even about the wine anymore, it’s about me. If one bottle is good, two bottles is better. And while I have a few friends who don’t drink, and some friends who aren’t very in to food, I can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable around them if I was eating or drinking, because while I get it in my head, at heart I don’t understand why they’re not indulging in the pleasures.

Sloth:
Have you seen my couches? It took me a long time to find ones as big and comfortable as they are. I am happiest when I am lying down fully stretched out. I hope that when I am lying down on my couch I am in my pyjamas, and that it’s cold so I can have a duvet to snuggle under. I have no idea how people find enjoyment in tramping, or running. A leisurely walk in nice weather with an iPod and comfortable clothing might be okay, but I have bung-ass knees due to the gluttony section, and flat feet so long periods of walking are no fun. I like dancing, if the music and environment is right, but mostly if I go out I want comfy couches to sit on. Part of my perfect week off plan would involve a day spent watching many episodes of a favourite show on DVD. I <3 the Sloth. I feel no cognitive dissonance about it at all.

Wrath:
I’m a pretty angry person. I’d like not to be, but I’m really really not good at letting things go. Now, I’ve just been to look up the word, to try and figure out if being full of wrath makes you actually do things, because my only reference point here is 7ven, and I haven’t killed Kevin Spacey any time recently. Mostly my wrath consists of me not getting over things, and steaming about them for years and years. I have strict moral codes of things like the Two Year Rule, and if people break them, I get really really angry. I think more people should just suck it up and be miserable instead of hurting people. I am very very angry about people who hurt me and get to have their happy endings, because where the fuck is the justice in that?

Envy:
I am extremely guilty of envy. I envy people with pretty shiny possessions like houses, and DVD hard drives, and then I envy people without few possessions, who can pack up their lives in a matter of minutes. Mostly when I envy people I try to belittle them in some way – the phrase “skinny bitch” comes out of my mouth an awful lot, or when I see couples making out in public I’ll be like “get a room” when I am really thinking “I wish that was me”. I am envious of anyone who gets to hear someone tell them that they love them. I am envious of my friends who are having successful careers in areas that I want to work in. I am envious of people whose webpages get more hits than mine when they’re not even fucking real, Natalie. I am envious of people that I look down on for appearing to be happy with who they are. I am envious of people who seem to have taken the blue pill if we were going to go all Matrix comparison-y – is the blue pill the ignorance one? Well that’s the one I want. In a way, and this is disgusting to admit, I am envious of people with real identifiable trauma in their lives, and that’s something I spent a long time on when I was in counselling. I would like to be able to say “the reason that I am like this is because ___ happened”, and have it be all nice and easy like that. And if you think that I actually think that other people have lives that are all nice and easy, then you’re a dumbass. I’m well aware that the grass is always greener on the other side. It’s just that it’s often very hard to see what people would be envy about me.

Pride:
Hello, have you looked up the definition of ‘Hubris’ lately? This links in to the wondering what people would envy me for. Being well-educated, raised upper-middle class and given the opportunity to travel the world before I was ten and having parents I can rely on to back me up? Sure, that’s lucky, but I don’t know if it’s something that I can take pride in, because it’s not something that I’ve achieved – unless we go “yay little sperm, nice work on hitting that egg”. I would like to take pride in overcoming depression, having friends, being a good writer, but it just seems like those are all things that come naturally, or are things that I have no alternative but to achieve, so that seems dumb. But yes, I am condescending. I am snobby. I can cook well, and sometimes am capable of carrying out a good stimulating conversation. I used to take pride in giving really great head, but since the throwing up on someone’s cock whoopsie, my confidence in that area has been shattered. I would like to think that Hubris the site is really interesting, and I’m proud of that, but it’s not like I’ve got a book deal or anything. So meh. Perhaps pride is my least sinny of the sins. Rock on.

I’m not going to tag anyone – when you presume that people want to do things, you make a press out of you and me! – but please feel free to riff off your own if you like.

EDIT: whoops, I forgot
Greed:
I think this is pretty much covered by all the other ones, isn’t it? I’ll just go with the Hole quote to sum this one up, cos I’ve already wasted too much time: “I want to be the girl with the most cake”. Chur. But actually no, let me change that to say that I’m well happy to pay as much tax as I do, because I want to live in a world where the people who aren’t as well off as I am can still have things like oh you know, housing and healthcare and education…

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I didn’t write this entry

October 14th, 2000 — 9:14am

Started the day by reading the New Zealand Herald. Brad and Justin came back from Justin’s house adn they took over the table for five minutes. Justin had a hickey on his neck – the back of his neck no less, which probably means he had gay sex. I think sometimes I am too mean to Justin , but then I figure he likes the abuse.

I hung out for the rest of the day and had fish and potato salad for dinner. Brad came hime from work at 10.30 while I was on the phone to Andie. I was screaming and energetic because that’s the way I am with Andie on the phone.

I got off the phone wiht Andie after deciding to go to Hamilton to see Weta, Fur Patrol and Shihad. Clayton Brad and I planned to go to Cornwall Park for a midnight picnic but went to Foodtown to get some chippies and mixers instead. At home we sat around the dining room table, drank, listened to music and showed each other things of our past like my diary, Brad’s comedy stuff and Clayton’s cartoon and sticker books. We bonded and it was good. After a while we started dancing in the hallway to Creed and Briteny until Kate B came home crying. All of a sudden, the music stopped and the dancing ceased. I think they won’t breeak up and everything will be okay, but it sound like a pretty serious arguement.

To end this journal I just want to say how much I love my flatmates. Brad rocks and Clayton is the bomb. Bye

Okay, it’s scary how like my sixth form diary writing style Brad wrote that entry for in me

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A Great Set of Tits

January 15th, 1999 — 1:00am

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.

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