Hubris.co.nz

It turns out that I can throw a pretty good shindig. The Fourth Annual Wellingtonista Awards were last night, and it was a fantastic time. I’m so proud of all the work that I and others have put into that site, and it’s paid off in bucketfuls. I’ll no doubt do a proper post about it over on that site, and round up pics and stuff like that, but suffice to say, oh my, so much love. It was fantastic to have lots of people who were nominated actually turn up, it was great to have Sally from Mighty Mighty to accept their billion awards that they won, and to have Shirley up on stage to accept for her identical twin Ev from Slowboat, to get to talk to James about how far we’ve come since the site started, to see Jessie again, to have Tom prove yet again what a gentleman he really is by keeping me in drinks when I thought I lost my eftpos card, to get to swap meaningful looks and sideways smiles with someone and have that be cool, to dance with Chiara and Theresa and Julie in pseudo-Russian style to the Klezmer Rebs, to see Sue actually about, to have so many friends there that I didn’t get a chance to talk to any of them properly, to have Tash be all humbled by their winning and her not being there to accept it on time, to dance to the awesome Karaoke Dick afterwards and sing sing sing, to having Kim show up really late and be all drunken “YAY KIM!!!!” at her, to have Grant Robertson (and everyone else) tell me how fabulous I looked…. oh, how I do so love me a good spotlight bask. Oh, and then there’s that other thing.

I’ve had bad experiences in the past where I’ve written about crushes and had the crushee email me going “um, I’m not interested in you romantically” and I’ve been like, yeah duh, I just wanted to write about how nice it is to have a crush that’s pure and simple and joyous, it’s not really about you or whatever, but on the other hand all too often I only write about things when they’re spent and used up and I’m all angsty about them, so in the interests of being Fair and Balanced like Fox News, I figure I will tell you a tale about last night at the TAWAs.

There was a girl there who it turned out I’d met almost ten years ago and I found myself really drawn to her immediately. It helped that she piled me with compliments, of course, and that it turns out that we’re eskimo sisters although our mileage definitely varied. At one stage I even sent Laura on a recon mission to find her, and in a move straight out of primary school Laura told her that I had a crush on her. Which is fine because we kissed as someone took up the mic singing ‘Halo’ and I have all kinds of love for that song, and it felt like I was on a show on the WB, and it was lovely, and it was public and not a shameful dirty secret. Also lovely was duetting on ‘Blister In the Sun’, dancing together and kissing right in the middle of Cuba Mall at 3am. She wouldn’t let me take her home because she said that shagging gets in the way of being friends, and I was like “but dude, I have a million friends already! I don’t need any more!” but of course she is no doubt right. I’m just very lucky that I got to have a thoroughly swell time and a kiss to make the night perfect. It was partly a little bit about chasing away the ghosts of last year and the thing that I am not supposed to remember any more, but it was so sweet that it felt fresh and clean and not at all like the other times this year when I have tried to drown my memories in someone else’s arms. Excellent. Thank you very much, you charming young lady.

You guys like role-playing right? Okay, so let’s pretend for a minute that you’re Jonathan Davis of Korn fame. You’ve dealt with my urge to call you Jonathan Brandis, and you weren’t on Seaquest and you didn’t kill yourself. You wrote some tunes that some people stood around in a circle in a lounge in Johnsonville when the parents were away pretending to headbang to, and you wrote the soundtrack for a dreadful movie that Stuart Townshead wore leather pants in and looking very fucking hot and so much better than Tom Cruise in. So, your guitarist quits, and goes off to write a tell-all book, and become a born-again Christian. Do you use your down-time to help puppies and also to train your bassist to wear his bass up around his middle not his knees, or do you learn to play the bagpipes?

Yeah, exactly.

So I wrote a journal entry last night, as you have no doubt read. Since that time I had a nice sleep, I drank some coke, I watched some episodes of America’s Next Top Model (I am totally on Team Isis and love Faux-Kimora for her open mind. And there’s just been the Irene Cara ‘Fame’ song on TV and I’ve realised that pretty much the entire cast is Isis, not least because of their bad hair). Then I got my shit together and put on my old red dress and went into town and Cafe Istanbul for Megan‘s redrunkening.  Her friends were mostly couples but I won’t hold that against her, and also I was amused to see the girl I used to work for at Ausm/Debate and we had a quick bitch session. I couldn’t believe how busy Istanbul was, and we managed to try to leave at the same time as another big table of cute lesbians so it took forever to do the bill and pay.

Then we went to the Taste of Korea to do karaoke. As is my way, I grabbed a mike and opened things with ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’ as I always rock the fuck out of that on Rockband. Our Soju “cocktails” were neither strong nor actually cranberry flavoured (raspberry miranda is NOT cranberry) but people warmed up eventually and we all sang some more. I ended up getting another hour, and because I didn’t know the people I didn’t ask for any money, which possibly was not the best financial decision ever, but Megan got the first hour, so whatever. Anyways, so mostly I sang power ballads. I sang “Sweet Child’O Mine” because I now take any chance to exercise old demons. And then I sang ‘Careless Whisper’ but I am too used to the Gossip version, and also having the lyrics up on the screen was like a punch in the face. As these things go. But anyways, I fucking adore karaoke like so much. I could sing all night.

Except that we only had two hours and we finished on “We are the world” and most people went home, so I went up to Atomic to find Karen. I couldn’t spot her on the dancefloor initially, but I did spot Smoo and Blair out on the balconey so I hung out with them for ages,  before I went and had a sweaty dance (I was all in synthetic fibres, stinky) and found my friends. I alternated between dancing and hanging with the boys after that. Acgtually, I also managed to combined the two, making Blair slowdance with me to OMD’s “If You Leave” as a tribute to John Hughes.  Blair and Smoo had some guy with them who managed to believe that Karen and I were identical twins – after I sadi that I’d eaten all the pies. He did some clever detective work, asking me what my birthdate was, and then asking her, and strangely enough, she said the same date. Karen was in very fine form that night, saying that there had been quite a few young boys hitting on her that night, including the duck – “but then again, I am moving/have a pulse. Not that I think he’s that fussy.”. Blair and Smoo didn’t seem to accept “Not married!” as a justification for anything, and if you add that to the fact that Smoo has a cricket bat in his room for chasing intruders then you’ll understand why i left a note on his door when I got home telling him that I fricking adore him. And now it’s 4am, and kebabs have been eaten, so let’s finish this journal and maybe have sleeps, yes?

Today is my birthday. My family have been awesome, as have my usual Tuesday crew (including the Quiz Master, who smells delicious, but could use some hand cream). My birthday party on Saturday night was an awful lot of fun too.

On my birthday last year I woke up in bed with a nice girl, and then Anji showed up and brought us coffee, we all went to brunch and then cleaned Karen’s apartment. The year before that, I was fucking relieved not to be having vagina surgery, and was possibly still really stoked to have been felt up by a boy who was one the best pashes evah the night before, we went to Cafe Istanbul for dinner and I saw the Real Hot Bitches for the first time ever. And I think that last link does a good job of summing up other years, but I will point out that on the day I turned 20 I dumped my boyfriend (ala, the ASSCUNT of twitter from the previous entry) because he wouldn’t make an effort to see me, and ten years ago, I had a really sucky 18th birthday in which people I cared about said nasty things about me because I drank and (shock horror!) smoked pot (one of those three people is now one of my best friends, one of them does far too many drugs now, and the other is in Australia) and it turns out that another one was sleeping with the guy I fancied at the time. Etc. So today’s not really being able to sleep until after 6am and all the voices in my head speaking in Scottish accents ala Anna from This Life, then workshops, dinner at Caffe Italiano and Quiz Night is really not that stand-out-y.

Has it become apparent to you via this post that birthdays are actually very important to me? I hope it has, because I’m living in a flat who fail to notice that,and it’s weird. Actually, this is the third birthday in a row tat I’ve had in which one of them will fail to pay it any attention. Oh, but, on a non-flatmate note, I haven’t had a birthday cake of my own on my actual birthday since I was 17 – until this year, when Anji and Bambi bought over a beautiful delicious cake for me with champagne bottle corks. I’ll put in photos at some stage. And also creepy video of karaoke. Karaoke was SO fucking awesome, it was such a good night, I love me some friends, and also Yvonne at Longxiang who dealt with me having 18 friends at dinner and that not even being close to all of them. I’m not always entirely sure why anyone likes me sometimes, but at dinner I totally got it and it was lovely.

Also random blah blah. Something about sex. Oh yes, the twitters on Saturday night. I’ll tell you, I am SO fucking horny right now. Like, there’s the usual depression thing of wanting to lose yourself under someone, having them thrust aside all thoughts in your brain even for a couple of minutes, the validation of having someone wrapped around you, and then there’s pre-period hormones, in which everything is a turn-on (see above quizmaster love from tonight, although of course that’s not a new thing because of course I fancy the rare people who appear to be smarter than I) and oh man oh man oh man sometimes all you can think about is getting a pounding.

Then there’s the decision that if 27 was the year of debauchery, which it hardly was, then maybe I wil make an attempt to make 28 year of health (starting tomorrow of course). Even my taxi driver tonight asked me if I suffered from Anxiety, which holy fuck yes I do. I should defend myself in saying that he asked because he had it, not because I appeared totally buttfuck crazy, honest. Anyways. Full circle. I hide in bed to avoid the world (read: flatmates going “oh, not at work today?) then hate onthe world (read: flatmates) for not doing anything for my birthday. Yes, that’s right, you can’t win with me at all, anyone. Haven’t I made that clear already? I should I suppose clarify here: I fucking miss Kat’n Kane, and Bopha and Brad, and Kateb and Clayton and Simon like, so much. I am deeply deeply nostalgic for flats of yesteryear when they were more than just a collection of individuals under one roof.

Except, you know, if you give me a good fucking right now. And that won’t happen because I am far too anxious. Joy! Yes, cycle, yes, I will get out of it. Man, I am looking forward to sleeping tonight.

Oh, and finally, have i mentioned lately that I think Sebastian is gay? There’s always bitemarks on the back of his neck. I wonder if the gay cat world has bears, because he is big and hairy. But he is also poised and handsome and constantly grooming. But the cats he talks to during the day look like twinks to me. I reckon that’s why he kept trying to do Sammy when we lived with Iva, even though Sammy was actually (sort of) female. Ahhh cat sex, that’s a good note to end on, right?

Some fucker stole my golden lampshade out of the garage. You’re a fucker, fucker. How did it get there in the first place? Well, that’s a good question. On Friday, I bought a chandelier for the lounge at a store called JoJo that’s on the corner of Victoria and Manners St. I could have bought the same chandelier for the same price in that little store full of shiny things in the Duke’s Arcade, but the scary woman in there scares me too much. If I had a camera, I’d take a photo of it to show you, but of course you know that I lost my camera a couple of Fridays ago.

There wasn’t really a chance for me to have lost my camera this Friday though, as it was terribly civilised. I hiked up to the Herd Street Bra after work to meet up with Tom and Che and MG and their respective partners for a drink. Karen came along and we headed off to New World for dinner supplies and to be picked up by Miss Lisa. We shredded roast chicken and tossed it with chickpeas, feta, avomacado, cashews, red capsicum, spring onions and coleslaw fixings and ate it in piles with walnut bread. And then we watched Captain Tightpants some more, woo hah. I suspect sometimes that I should find a new expression other than “woo hah”, because while it is awesome, it is definitely overused.

On Saturday, I went and had my alonetime brunch at Elements. On my drive there I noticed a filing cabinet inside the Salvation Army op shop in Kilbernie, so on my way back I stopped in and bought it for $35. There was a bit of fanangling to get it into my teeny tiny car, especially since there were still boxes of pottery lying around in it, but with the help of the young guy from the shop we got it there in the end. And I managed to drag it out of my car and into the garage at home, because I am Superwoman. I went to the Meditteranean Warehouse in Newtown to buy a bottle of Amaro for Tom, and also a can of silver spraypaint. Then I had to sand the fucker down, and scrape off old stickers. Hurrah for having turpentine in the house. I am so fucking crafty; craftly like a MONGOOSE. I ran out of silver paint on the third side of the cabinet, so I switched to gold for the handles, and then I spraypainted the round white paper lampshade that’d been hanging in the lounge until I put up the chandelier. But now some asshole’s taken that. Boourns. The cabinet is looking stunning though, with another couple of coats of paint that I raced to the store to buy today after work despite feeling sick sick sick.

Saturday night I got glammed up and hopped on a bus to Sandwiches for Tom’s birthday dinner. They had no pork belly so after Che’s discussion on veal I opted for the vege cannelloni. I sent an update to twitter that said “Last time i was here at Sandwiches i was having the best pashes of my recent years. I miss Shiny! I look even hotter tonite than then though.” Dinner and conversation was very civilised, but I did get an odd look when I suggested to someone that they could fill their attic with dead bodies instead of pink bats as insulation. Apparently that’s not the done thing. When we were leaving, someone grabbed me and hugged me, and it was Bart with Blair, so I made a split-moment decision to go with them instead of going up to the Hawthorne Lounge. We went up to Richard’s apartment on Cuba Street and read catelogues from the Danish Sex Museum and drank and talked shit, then we went to the Southern Cross and wrapped ourselves up in polar fleece blankets cos it was fucking cold outside. When that shut we went to Frindigo, but that was closing a couple of drinks later, so we ended up at Club K, where we did shots of jagermeister and I got dragged onto the dance floor by some girl. Then after Bart and Blair sang a couple of Fall Out Boy songs (haha!), I somehow found myself warbling through ‘Like a Virgin’. I think they turned the microphone off on me, I was that bad. But it was fantastic! And I got home some time after 4am, fell asleep on the couch and then woke up in my bed still wearing my clothes. Needless to say, Sunday was a write-off.

I thought I had more to say today, but I guess I don’t, so I will watch the last two episodes of Season One of Deadwood instead. Tomorrow I’m going to Eagle Vs Shark, and on Thursday is the Great Blend, hurrah! And I’m still looking for a flatmate, grrrrr.

There’s something a little wrong with your taxi driver giving you tips on how to become a high price hooker, isn’t there? I mean, even if he’s just giving you advice on where the rich men hang out. The George in Parnell, apparently, and I was like “sweet mate”. I think I’d just been saying about how I didn’t want to get a job and shit, and he was like “find a rich man, that’ whbat women do, isn’t it?”. Actually, come to think about it, he was a real sexist prick – going on about how much stuff women carry in their handbags, but at the time he seemed funny. I’m gald I didn’t tip him, even if I had to run into the house to get cash. Oh man, apart from paying for the taxi, I didnyt’ spend a cent tonight – how cool is that?

I found myself spending the evening in the bedroom of some apartment overlooking the sky tower and the harbour bridge. There was blue carpet and it all smelt of CKone, because everyone was spraying that on themselves. I realised eventually that the bed was the same one as we sold, and I was like “well no wonder this feels so comfortable” and Jody and I laughed a lot, and then probabyl danced some more.

Oh man, i got the best quote outta Jody tonight – almost “I have a cock in my mouth!” but I can’t remmeber it. Oh wait, yes I can – “if I was drunk enough, I’d do anything with you” – but we were talking about me asking her to sing spice girls with her at Karaoke – honestly. Damn I’ ve been using a lot of dashes.

Tech at noon, group meeting. There’s a computer hooked up on a 56 modem in the lab now, running IE 3.0 and NS 3.0 for us to do testing on, and we discovered that our site doesn’t work at these browser levels. BUGGER! stats from the NSCC say that only .48% of people have used IE 3.0 so we don’t really care about that, but 3.78% of people use NS 3.0 so we gotta do something about that. Well actually, I d unno if we do really, cvos it’s only a couple’o pixels out. And if you’re using a browser that old – even if you’re doing it ironically – you get what you deserve.

Eventually, it’s like 4pm and I’m tired of working in Quest, and having to reboot every half hour, even emails from Kini telling me what she’s eating aren’t inspiring enough, so I go get food with Kate M and Brad, and at 5pm we show up at the TV studios to provide canned laughter for Clayton’s sitcom thingie. It was funny, as were the 3 minuters we made in 1st year that we watched some of. Fuck, first year seems like yesterday, and a life time ago. Arg. I’ve fucked 3 people and snogged 4 others in less than the past year. Nothing like making up for lost time.

After the videos, we head down to London Bar, and Andrew Melville, radio tutor, calls me Joanne and buys me a pint. If people buy me alcohol, I forgive small details, especially when he amends himself to “Joanna” later. After Brad and Kate M have gone, and I’m sitting at the other end of the tables pushed together, Becks Jody and I realise that we’re magenta yellow and cyan in my case. Kate Hamlin buys me a vodka. Stuff is good. Jody Cess and I are the only non radio students – they’re a very inbred group, you know. I laugh a lot observing their social rituals and the inside stories going on. Oh the gossip! Oh the drama!

Eventually we felt like we were under threat of being kicked out becasue we were so loud, and also everyone was hungry. The group seemed to spliter in two, a nd I went with one group down to Glengarry on College Street, which was shut, and many questioned whether or not Randy actually knew where he lived. But we got there eventually, and it was posh. Bex ordered pizza, and got my handful of change to pay for it. There was drinking and drinking – alcohol the radio gang bought w ith the money they’d made f rom the static launch party. They’re not programming it anymore, which sucks cos it’s finally streaming across the Intranet. Dancing to old scary music – Bon Jovi, much stroking of someone’s chest. I got asked if I’d put out for someone in an animal costume, but I think I’d be laughing too much.

“Lydia” by Fur Patrol plays, and it seems group consensus that this is the coolest song ever around right now. It’s such a jilted woman song, and I sing it with a group. Then Jarrod plays Hootie and the Blowfish, and I complain that it’s only ever Saint Pats boys that like this kinda crap, and he’s like “you know nothing about St Pats boys” and I laugh lots, because actually I do. Dylan taught me how boys wank, after all.

Dance dance, drink drink drink, smelly smelly shoes. Gossip gossip, my head hurts, call a taxi, taxi comes, arguing with driver, he’s implying that I’m a whore, runnning into the house for cash to pay, pay, back home, computer on, requests to see my titties, so what else is new? Fuck I’m tired. It w as fun hanging out with people that I don’t know that well. It was also fun to discover the other day that someone I was afraid of hurting has a parallel agenda to mine, so wh00p for that.

More goddam meetings tomorrow, time to feel less sick and then go to bed. It’s been fun. Heh, I amuse me much, thanks Shania. I wonder if everyone’s going to Bar of the Stars now. I wanna go to Karaoke with Olivia again. I was talking to Brad today about Skid Row, and he just had no idea.

I’ve got chills – they’re multiplying

I was sitting on the bus today, and I finally realised what I needed to do to get my preloader to work – put in a background – and so when i got to tech I did that, and it worked. And that was good. And then I showed Andrea how to do the HTML scripting to predetermine flash etc and stuff, so I felt real proud. In class we ftp’d it up onto the AUT site, and then we were done. YAY! Karen and Andrea took off to the London bar, while I went up to the radio suite to wait for the kids up there to get their shit together, and we made it in time for happy hour.

So that was cool, and cellphones are definately handy. Three drinks later, we went to Pizza Pizza. THEY SOLD WINE BY THE LITRE!!!!!! We got a litre of red and I texted kini to tell her that I was faking Sydney. I never played Foozeball in Sydney though. We used to play it all the time in first year at Pizza Pizza, but never since then. Nevertheless, Jeremy and I managed to kick ass. Andrea wasn’t in Tutorial D first year, unlike everyone else, but I’m still really glad she came along. Who was there? Umm. At London Bar, it was Andrea me and Karen all celebrating handing in our Flash, and Jeremy who is doing multimedia, but not mmb, and ahhh Peter and Kate M and Clay showed up as did Trudie. And then Clay went to get Kara, and Nigel came along. And Clay and Kara came back. So that was all cool. I canvassed opinions on the end of year dinner that Maree and I are organising.

Can I just say how fucking cool Maree is? She gave me this huge big career counsellor speech last nigth when she came over and found me sitting on my bed going “AAAAAAARTGFHHHHHHHHHH” in sheer terror at the world around me and the past and fuck yeah, she’s just rocking. So anyways, we’re going to organise a dinner for 3rd years only. It’s somethign like eight weeks until it’s all over. BVut I guess that’s good because that so throws me out of my comfort zone, and that’s when i do best, when i’m out of my comfort zone. Apart from like yeah, but that doesn’t count. I realsiedthe other day that I don’t go out all that much – people come here because this house is so cool and we’re all so cool. And while that’s good, it also means that I’m never put in new situations, so I don’t face new challenges or meet new people, and that sucks because i think I need contstant new stugff jsut to keep me running smoothly. I like new experiances.

But Karaoke. Jugs were $4, which was good. Justin said I had nice jugs when I asked him to get the next round. I spilt beer all over myself. Kara, Kate M, Andrea and I sang “Like a Prayer”. There was like no one in the bar at first, which was choiiice. Well, there were a ocuple of hidi people. And the barman’s mother, who Kate M dueted with. Niiiiice Kate. We danced for people. Justin and Peter did a stirring Frank Sinatra rendition. All the boys did a nice Brittany. Kate M and I did Christina. OoohooooHhoh. Clayton and i had a dance together, flashbacking to our glorious victory the last time we were at the Hub. He’s fun. We weren’t very co ordinated though. Peter made me get up to dance to ‘Balimos’ even though Brad wasn’t there. Kate M did the COME ON TIQUERO bit with me. Popular Kate did a stunning solo number. What was the song? I can’t remember. But it was fantastic.

Clayton and Kara went off to something else very early on. Popular Kate was on duty at the hostel for most of the time so she had to leave and took Justin with her. Later, Andrea Jeremy and Kate M all went off to the Link together. I figured I would stay to keep Peter company since he had to wait 90 minutes until his next bus. But then we went to investigate the mysterious mezzanine over the bar, but when we found out it wasn’t actually a mezzanine I decided I was bored, so it was off to the Otara bus for me.

Came home, and fed Tahallulah dry bread and water. I feel so awful for her. I hope Kate never has kids. And my head hurts now. I want some pills. I want some sleep. I hope when I get to bed that I won’t be thinking. I was going to sleep with Kate B last night, cos we were in her bed talking anyways, but then she was going to leave her stereo on, and she’s a huge big duvet hog. I’m still having very vivid disturbing dreams though.

These are highlights from my journal that I kept in my red book in Australia. Obviously, it’s not everything. I was doing a whole bunch of thinking, and no one needs to read all of that. But these are the entertaining highlight parts.

Thursday 29/6/00

Interesting… Kini gve me directions to to the Sydney Museum, but I have a suspicion I fucked up, cos I’m currently sitting on the steps of the New South Wales Art Gallery. This is also fine with me. I realy should go to more exhibitions! Serves me right for following a bunch of school kids, I guess. Maybe Adrian can take me to the museum in the afternoon. For now, it’s lovely and sunny and the gallery opens in ten minutes.

My stomach is doing funny rumbly things. This is not a good sign! I spent yesterday at Kini’s house again, relaxing. Her room is so light and airy (it’s just like a CKone bottle, I’ve deiced) it feels like some expensive private clinic I’ve been checked into. Betty Ford perhaps. I’m going to clean up my addictions!

*****

Later – 11.30ish

Actually, I’m really glad that I didn’t make it to the museum, because the art gallery was realyl really cool. I know where the museum is now – i should have gone right out of Hyde Park instead of left to the Land Office that looks like a fucking museum! If I’d been wearing my contact lenses, I might have realised.

But anyways, I feel really good and cultured having been to the art gallery. I am so glad I did Art History in 7th form, because it helped me to understand things better. Plus the whole fact that we _had_ to go to exhibitions made it easier for me.

The first colleciton I looked at was 20th Century Australian Art. There wasn’t anything too striking htere, although I picked up on Colourfields, Impressionism etc etc. A couple of artists had work that looked a lot like Rita Angus. Next there was 19th Century Australia Art, which was kinda boring too, but that dissolved into International Stuff, and I became more intrigued. I love myths, and classics. I really oughta learn mre. I think when I’m in Welly, I’ll try and borrow some books of myths off Karen. One picture I especially loved was of Ipheginia sleepign, while this guy Cymon was staring, transfixed by her beauty. I want to be enchanting. I want to be beautiful. I think I’m tempted to start writing mythical stories instead of journal entries. The 21st century needs greater inspiration. Where are our gods? Christianity just isn’t as interesting. We need divine love, and loyalty and faith and honour and compassion and courage and revenge and anger. We need deities who can be humanised.

Off my soap box now. One other piece that really inspired me was this statue of a man, woman and child that was half carved into a flat surface, like the Athena Nike from the Arcropolis. The female clung to the male, in complete love, and together they held a baby. I hope I misinterpreted the look in his eye – it seemed almost as if he was thinking of someone else. But that’s probably just me projecting.

Then I went downstairs to an exhibition of contemporary art. They had a lot of stories of installations, without the actual works, which was kind of a shame. But there was lots of other cool shit as well. In one room across a wall there was a whole line of sardine cans, made in shiny metal, with trees groing out of the top and human body bits in the can. They were were quite breathtaking. The trees were exqisitely detailed, and the body parts were so realistic. There were penises and vaginas, sure, but the parts that attracted me were the curves of the back. I got to know one person’s back so well – maybe that’s symbollic. Or maybe not. In the ame room were beaded coral sculptures that seemed to float inside their glass cabinets. Beautiful.

I have fallen in love again. In one room of the gallery, the lights were dimmed and opera music was playing. A circular track around a pile of bricks had two projectors moving around, shining their images onto the bricks. The first was a close up of a man’s face. The second was his whole body, twisted by at rest. He was looking at me! I feel i know him so well, eyes pleading for me not to leave, to help him become real.

There was another installation nearby, where a huge screen took up a whole wall. Projected onto it was video footage of about 15 men, standing still. I went and sat down to watch, because they didn’t really keep still at all. It was really fascinating, actually. The young guy at the end didn’t seem to move at all, but eventually I caught him blinking. That meant I could leave satisfied. Art gallery padded benches are so comfy. I admit, I would love to fuck on one.

On the top floor of the gallery was a collection of black and white photographs by Olive Cotton. She’s amazing. Yet again, my favourite pieces were the portraits of Max, her two year husband, and the photos he had taken of her. I’m obsessed with finding true love I think. And I so want a man who’d want to take photos of me!

Now I’m sitting in Hyde Park near the fountain. It’s really windy, so every so often, huge big mists of water drift around. It looks amazing. Unfortunately, it’s starting to cloud over a little. I hope it doesn’t rain! there’s a man talking to a spunky young Dutch tourist on the bench to me – I think it’s so lovely when people are nice! The man’s gone now, so maybe I should volunteer to be tourguide! But then again, I’m scared it’s about to rain. I’d better go get underground. Brr!!

1pm

Tiny moments that make me believe the human race as a whole is going to be okay? An old woman in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the QVB sitting calmly on a bench pouring herself a cup of tea from a thermos.

Kni and I were driving home the other night, and the radio was tuned into some love songs request program. This guy rang up and was dedicating Chicago’s “Inspiration” to his princess, who’d made his life so much better even though they’d onyl been together 3 months. We were mocking, but it was so sweet that Kini started crying. And then I cried because I thought that was so unbelieveably cute and because I want to be someone’s princess too, dammit!

4.39pm

Goddam my fucking feet hurt big lots! I went to meet up with Olivia where I’d always met her – outside the posh foodcourt. She showed up, looking radiant as usual, and gave me my birthday present. It’s a tiara – yay! Just a little one, attached to a comb, and it’s very cool. Just before i met up with her, I bought myself a hair scrunchie. And when I say “hair”, that’s exactly what I mean – tufts of synthetic blue and blakc hair sprouting from an elastic band. It rocks!

Both Olivia and I were really hungry, and i had a hankering for some Chinese, so we proceeded to a foodcourt underneath Grace Bros. It was completely pack. Once we’d got our food – peeking beef and sweet & sour pork for me – we searched for like five minutes trying to find a seat. We had absolutely no luck, so we jumped on an escalator to find a bench to sit on. We found one – sharing with a very sleepy old man. It wasn’t the most ideal eating environment ever, but the company was great.

****

After lunch, we went to Woolworths Metro to look for red plastic cups like the ones they have at every single American teenage party. Kini promised that she’d seen them, but there was no joy. We searched the entire store. I almost bought a set of minature books for $1.20 but couldn’t ick any catergories. I also almost bought a crystal ball lamp, because they were only $13, but as Olivia pointed out, there was no way to change the light bulb inside it. Hmm, what a mystery! But Oh was very smart to spot the fatal flaw!

Then she had to go back ot work, and I had to go meet Adrian on the town hall steps. Because it was raining, Iw as waiting under the cover at the top of the steps when some dumbass doorman guy told me to move to the side. Like i was fucking blocking access! So I went to go stand in the rain, because I was feeling spiteful. He told me I could stay under shelter, just to the side, but I pretended I didn’t speak English. es, I was being dumb.

I was almost hoping that Adrian wouldn’t show up, cos IW asn feeling a little sleepy and not that sociable, but then he arrived. Since he had no plans, I suggested we should go to the museum, and he agreed. Since it was my idea, I paid the $8 each, and I’m glad I did, cos goddam, the museum was crap! I would have felt realyl bad if I’d made him pay for that! The first room was full of different kinds of skelatons – including a man on a horse called “The Bone Ranger”. Oh dear! On the mezzanine leve around the bone room were fascinating exhibits on rocks. Really really thrilling stuff! The highlight, of course, was passing the Gem Vault and having Adrian comment “you belong in there”. Heh. There was also a lot of dead birds and insects that did not hold our interest. We went to the Discovery Centre and looked at bugs under microscopes and cd roms, but restrained ourselves from going on that Internet thing. Kids World was only for 1-5 year olds, which is a shame because it looked like the most interesting area! Kini rang me while we were in the Evolution Area. She was like “where are you” and when I said the museum, she was like “Still????” so I had to explain. The dinosaur exhibit was boring as well, kids running crazy. We found their makeout room though, cunningly disguised as “the music room”. In some other section, there was a tiny little bug room that I folded myself into, although i’m not entirely sure why. So yeah, it was a crap museum, but it filled in some time, and at least I can say I did something. There was a sperm whale skeleton in the foyer – I said it was huge, Adrian thanked me.

Then he was feeling peckish, so we went to get some food at – oh god – Cafe Americana in the QVB. It was just like a cafe in Japan, only without hot towels and the plastic display food. I was feeling very sleepy by that stage- I could have quite happily put my head down on the table and slept. But that would have been rude. Adrian paid for my (crap) ice cream sundae, and we went to Soup Plus to make a booking for tonight. Then he took me to Coles, where we again searched fruitlessly for red plastic cups. He reckons they’re contraband in NZ – I’m not sure I believe him, eh! We were talking about Melbourne vs Sydney, and I suggested that the difference is that Sydney has no soul, much like Auckland vs Wellington. Adrian went hom, and I came up here to the Sky Pub in Kini’s building. I rang her to tell her – she really doesn’t seem to like the idea of me hanging out here for hours. I don’t know why. I’m only on my second vodka. And it’s not like anyone is trying to pick me up. They should be, dammit! I give great head! Maybe I should tattoo that across my forehead. Or maybe not.

Okay, it’s 6pm now. Kini should be down soon.

****

Did I mention that my bag strap broke? That really really pisses me off! I’ve had to carry it around clutching it all day. Not comfy! I’m also pissed off that i had to pay adult fare of $8.80 return on the train today. My student ids just weren’t good enough, apparently!

Gosh they play a lot of crap music here! Ah well, at least my second vodka was only $2. Happy Hour must be over – they just made a beeping noise. We’re supposed to be meeting Leigh in six minutes. Where oh where is Kini? She should have called. I should call her I guess, and go meet Leigh by myself. Or, after calling her, I oculd just meet her downstairs in ten minutes. What a great compromise! Olivia wants to go to Karaoke tomorrow, and has suggested that Kini and I stay over at her house afterwards and go to the airport from there. Anyways, I should probably get my shit togehter and go now xoxo

Friday 30th June

So, here I am for the last time on the train to the city. O nly this time, it’s the afternoon and I am by myself. Oooh brave me! I almost got on the wrong train, but luckily I didn’t. Oooh smart me!

I’m really sad to be leaving Kini’s house. I love her so much and it’s been so restful, just chilling and relaxing. I feel heaps calmer and way better equipt to deal with my life. I just wish it had never come to this in the first place! Ahh well.

Tonight Kini and I are staying at Olivia’s house, and hopefulyl going to Karaoke beforehand. It’ll be weird being in Oh’s house, just like it’ll be weird in Kate Benton’s room as well, I guess. I dreamt about Kate last night. We were going to the school ball with a whole bunch of people like Nicola, but then it was like 1am and we still hadn’t left. So then Kate and I decided to go to the casino instead. We somehow were in Mississipi then, and it so it was really hard to get a taxi. We ended up on some pushpull railway cart, being fed red wine by the two drivers. It was odd. Oops, I skipped two pages. Where is my mind?