Hubris.co.nz

I have been reading my journal from 1999, spurred on by stumbling across Shakespeare in Love on TV and deciding to find what I’d written about it, and realising what was going on with my life at the time, but anyways, I fucking wish I could be that honest and upfront right now. I mean, yes, in the olden days I did write my secret thoughts in the source code, but at least I wrote them. In the past couple of years, I’ve become so boring and sheltered and so fucking cafeful. I miss pre-google days when you could write about how fucking stoned you got with various people and call them by their names.

But I don’t smoke pot anymore, of course, and man, I so fucking miss that. Did you see the parts in my journal in 1999 when I used to be in my pyjamas, and someone would call, and my flatmate would be in love with them so I’d put on my grandfather’s silk dressing gown and get driven across town to go smoke with them and then go home? Good times. I wish the world was that simple right now.

Yes I know that I am full of “oh I wish that things were still that way or that way or whatever it is that I want”. And yes, I realise that might make you think that I am unhappy with the way that things are right now. I wish I could write and explain the things that are causing me drama. I have layers of privacy written into this journal, and I could make posts on different levels, or write in different spaces, put in linked footnotes, or be really obscure, but I don’t want to do that. I wish I could tell you what I dislike about my job, very specifically, but I am reduced to saying “government can be a little bit slow-moving”. I wish I could tell you what the problem is with my homelife, but I will sumarise by saying that Kat and Kane are moving out in February to go to Tauranga to be nearer to Kat’s Mum, and you can’t argue with that. But oh yes, of course it doesn’t actually matter when they’re going, as much as I love them and will miss them so much, because oh yes, that’s right, I’m BEING EVICTED. They’re terminating the lease on this house that I love so much on February 3, so I will need to be gone, and find somewhere new. I left a note for Smoo telling him about it and saying that I hoped he would come with me when I set up a new house, because I love living with him, but he’s gone to Hamilton for Xmas, so I don’t know what he’ll say and I’m a little bit scared that he’ll be all like “oh you know what? Done our dash at this flat, time for me to move on”. But I suppose if that’s the way the road goes, that’s the way the world goes.

I am trying to be very calm and very philosophical about everything in my life right now. It does not help that I have failed to go to the gym for a couple of weeks, that my alcohol intake has increased exponentially with the season, that I can’t remember the last salad that I had, that there’s a full moon and most significantly that I am down to a pill a day, if that, because apparently it is far too too hard to find five minutes to cut them up and fill my seven-day box.

So there have been more than a few tear-bouts. Like when my car got towed from the carpark near work that I’d only parked in because I’d failed to sleep and was running an hour and a half late, and that was all the coins I had. I didn’t know who to call and I didn’t want to bother anyone with my drama, but as I later suggested to my counsellor, if anyone was in my position and they failed to call me, I’d want to punch them in the head because of course I’m always there for them (so I have resolved to treat myself like I’m actually my friend, so that I will see that I am actually important and special and deserving of cherishing and nourishment – the way I view my friends but have difficulty seeign myself). So yeah, I called Shirley, and cried and cried, and through a series of navigational mishaps, we ended up driving out to Petone. I had a big panic attack – or is it an anxiety attack – in her car. My heart rate went out of control, my entire body tensed up to the point where my left side felt like it was a heart attack, my flesh tingled, and I had the most disgusting metalllic taste in my mouth. I was more successful in fighting it because I was in someone else’s company than I normally would be. And we wen to the beach, and I stood ankle deep in the cool water and tried to unclench my body, which had of course gone into total survival clenched mode.

We wandered down Jackson St forever, trying to find a place for dinner that was open which would fit us in, and finally we came across Gusto, down the opposite end from Wanda Harland. Yum! We had a cheese plate which had a brie that gooed everywhere, and antipasto with four kinds of preserved meats. The service was a little new, but very well intentioned. And after we had retrieved my car from the towing yard, $180 later, I stopped by quiz and was so upset and stressed out about my workshop the next day I hardly even noticed when the Quizmaster hugged me.

The next day I had a huge big challenge organising an interactive workshop on wikis for 50 people. I panicked and doubted myself and thought I’d fucked up room bookings when it was of course some people overstaying their time in rooms, but other than that, it went pretty good. And then after work I got drunk over dinner at Longixang with Karen and Kowhai and Lisa, and we drove out ot Martha’s shop opening and I drank more champagne and bought presents for Anji and Karen, and a bear-shaped rug that I am SO going to fuck someone on, while my fire-place video plays on the TV. Maybe I will add in photos some other time.

I didn’t write about the Wellingtonista awards yet either. Such an amazingly good night. I can’t believe that things went as well as they did. It was such a stressful period leading up to ist, but on the night, it appears that we pulled it off quite well indeed. My dress was pretty, and that;’;s what’s most important, right? and OH MY GOD Blam Blam Blam were so astonishingly good,a nd I jumped up and down and up and down and dancd and danced and then I hugged them and the whole time I was dancing I had the biggest grin on my face going “BLAM BLAM MOTHERFUCKING BLAM ARE PLAYING AT AWARDS I FUCKING HELPED ORGANISE!” (although props for the actual night must go to Mitch and Russell) and it was just so fucking lovely to know that 678 people voted, compared to 57 from last year. The Wellingtonista have filled my social calendar this year and I love them all dearly, even when they don’t read their emails properly.

And there are other things that are lovely in my life. Kat and I may have finished our Veronica dates, but the other night on our girlie date night we watched Dirty Dancing and then The Breakfast Club and I know that even when they’re gone in February, they’ll be coming back all the time for wrestling. And fuck, I so don’t want them to leave. Do you know how amazing our vege garden looks right now? I don’t want ot have to leave this house, it’s just not fucking fair. This is my home. How dare they “consider their options”? Shirley’s consoling words have been all about promising me that I’ll find a place with a better kitchen, but how will I find a house big enough to fit in all my crap? I have so much crap. My aim over the holidays is to throw out three things a day, but I dunno if I’ll get that done. Yesterday I was hungover all day from end of work drinks, with Tom buying Bollinger at Arbituaguer, and then much sake at Hede, and teapots at Alice, and more wine at Hawthorn, and today I had half a dozen people (Karen, Tom, Kowhai, Shirley, Frances, Lisa, Kat & Kane) over for drinks in the sun, which of course turned into drinks with candles outside and everyone wearing my hoodies and wow, I’m so fucking huge. My idea of spontaneous entertaining starts with texts at 10am, and then there’s bratwursts and frozen samosas and a trillion cocktails. We’re having Xmas at Mum and Neil’s, even though their deck isn’t finished (I am SO dreading the mess already) and so Karen and I went entree shopping this morning. And I have already finished the white rum, apparently. D’oh!

What more did I have to say? I am so fucking craving some physicality. I want to devour the world. So let’s end it there, yes?

Despite the $50 bar tab hangover that I have (I got Daddy to come to quiz night last night so we came second), today is fucking rad. The sun is shining, ‘Float On’ bubbled through my earphones (apparently today my iPod battery has decided to work) and I ate fish’n chips in Waitangi Park with Noizy and Tom. I found out that I got the pay rise that I asked for (which is twice as much as I actually wanted), and I have exciting plans for the weekend (party in Aro on Saturday and the first meeting of The Country Club on Sunday at my house – we’re wearing togas, drinking wine and watching Caligula – you’re invited as long as you refrain from pointing out that ‘Rome’ isn’t actually a country), I have a new old mattress and I vacuumed under my bed. Life is pretty sweet right now. Did I mention that Bic Runga offered to buy me a drink? Cos she did. And that’s RAD.

Last weekend was very very choice. On Friday night I went with two cow-orkers and three ex cow-orkers to Tupelo, which freaked me out a little with its redness. I left at 8.30pm when Kate picked me up, and they apparently stayed out until 4am, so it is just as well that I left when I did, especially since Kate and I went home with quadruple chocolate ice cream and Hairspray. Now we both want to learn how to do the mashed potato and other assorted dances. Hairspray is total radsicles (and radsicles is the new awesome – it’s like popsicles but cooler. Hehe). In the morning I made Kate pancakes and used my good china, even going to the extreme lengths of putting lemon juice in the little sake pot. Suck on that, Martha Stewart. Later I put on my pretty new dress that very few people have complimented me on (what’s up with that?) and met up with Lisa Fur and Brad to go to Bic Runga at the Michael Fowler Centre.

*Insert wide-eyed awe and aural orgasms and much spine-tinglingness here.*

She was playing with the whole band who played on Birds and played the whole album, so I might just pop up my review of that from Pulp now and then times that by a thousand and add in the goodness that is Neils Finn’s stage banter, and the amazing hotness of her base player who had his bass at exactly the right height – two inches lower and he would have been a nu-metal wanker, and five inches higher and he would be a geek – for maximum sexiness, and the total adoreableness of Annika Moa and the wonderfulness of our seats right by the sound desk, and the incredible aura and Strong Pixieness of Bic and and and wow. Just wow. I was dazzled. Simon Sweetman, you can suck a fuck, because of course it was polished. They’re the top fucking musicians in the country – how could it be anything but? I do wish that she’d played a couple more tracks off Beautiful Collison like the title track or ‘Election Night’ but that’s okay. It was still wow. I was moved pretty much to tears.

And then of course Jessie was there, and so the lobby was a lovefest of everyone I know – Jimmy and Esther and Ash (who Lisa ran away from when I was like “she’s from the internet” and it made me laugh a lot) and and Amelia, Jess Clayton and um some other people maybe? So I invited everyone to Rome, and was responded to enthusiastically. Me and Lisa and Brad headed down to Good Luck via Lisa’s car to drop off posters, to await Jessie. A couple of drinks later, she texted to say she was at Motel with the band, so Lisa and I went there. The bar was insanely full, and I was intimidated by the beautiful people, and while yes, I have occasionally entertained thoughts of being pressed up again Shayne Carter, it was always in more intimate settings, so I paniced when I finally fought my way to the front to get a drink and didn’t want to ask for a menu but I knew that I wanted a drink that would last a long time, so I remembered Wellurban and ordered a dry martini. I forgot that I haven’t drunk martinis regularly for quite a while. It was definitely a strong drink. It was the right thing to order though, because after that I saw it was what Bic herself was drinking. She came and sat at our table and I squeed, and Jessie told her that I really liked Jessie’s haircut, and I said that yeah, if that whole singing thing didn’t work out for her, she could have a career as a hairdresser, and then encouraged by her laugh, I said that that concert was amazing, and that two years ago when she played the cathedral she’d asked the audience if we liked her tights, and I did like them. And then I realised that despite having said earlier that I didn’t, holy crapping fuck, I was talking to Bic Runga, and she was just so nice that I genuinely did like her tights. And now I will stop using italic tags and just reflect on how stupidly starstruck I felt, but how much I basked in her glow. And of course, it was very very rad to see Jessie again, and her hair is so cute it’s ridiculous. Everything was so wonderful, I was just walking on air.

On Sunday I played Domestic Goddess and shopped and cleaned and cooked dinner for my whole family, which they’re still telling me was great, even though it was just the exact same food that I served my dinner party that one time. It was a very pleasant night though. On Wednesday Anji, Karen and I had dinner at The Last Supper Club, and while the food was tasty (although I asked for my fillet steak to be medium rare and it came out blue), the waiter was smarmy (sample line: “there are three mints for you on that plate” – oh really? Is THAT what they are? Cunt.) and we really didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as last time. Then we went to V for Vendetta which was awesome and left me dreaming of nuclear warfare and being all alone when the bombs started falling and crying cos I’d left Sebastian outside.

Yesterday Mummy took me to lunch at Captiol to thank me for doing some design work for her. I had bruscetta and pasta with zuchini and ricotta and a French wine that was a combination of reisling and pinot gris and very tasty it was too. The waiter asked me if I was Joanna, and I said I was and he pointed out that he went to high school with me, and I laughed and said oh yeah, and pretended to not know what he’d been up to for the past couple of years. It makes me happy though that so many of the beautiful people from high school are still working in hospitality. I am so shallow. Last night we went to the quiz at the Realm, and I had too many beers and sucked at pool so I went home and then Del let herself in and her friend in knee high white boots trimmed with oversized laces and fur accosted me asking for hugs and snuggles. Maybe I shouldn’t have judged her so harshly based solely on her boots, because she said some slightly intelligent things about the Gilmore Girls that I was trying to watch, but she was very very drunk and loud. It was like Courtney Love coming to stay. I sent Bart a text going “come home NOW”. He was very apologetic.

Today there is the goodness that I have already described, and in an hour I’m going to go and have a drink with Sarah, and then maybe stare at all my workmates as they have their netball team dinner, but I should really go home and chargrill the kilo of red peppers that I bought for $1.95 at A-Mart instead. See you tomorrow night or at Rome.

Oh, and also, something I forgot to mention was how great it was to finish something creative that I’ve been working on for ages, and the end product of that is 101 Stories That I Want to Tell You, which you should get, if you want it.

Let me point you towards the Last Supper Club’s bible-quoting yummy sounding menu that’s available at their website. Yesterday it was more elaborate, while the restaurant features a much more simple version. However, today, the real menu is online. We all live happily ever after.

Here’s a hot tip for you – if you are a party of two, don’t make a reservation, because there’s only one table for two and it looks like the card table kids are sent to at Xmas. Instead, you should saunter in early, as this Wellingtonista did, and secure yourself one of the small half-sized booths in the window. Order a bottle of Palliser Autumn 2004 Riesling ($34). Peruse the truncated menu. Wait for your dining companion. Finish your glass of wine. Wait for your dining companion. Order some fries. Be a little peeved when the waiter fills your glass again with that very very tasty wine, because this means that self control is even harder. Wait for your companion…

When your fries ($5) arrive, they will be crispy shoestrings with a scattering of lemon pepper, and teamed with a rather too sweet sweet chilli aioli. You’ll eat half of them before your dining companion finally arrives, but at least you’ll be quick off the mark to tell the waiter that you’d like first the “stack of grilled haloumi with prosciutto, rocket and basil on brushcetta with roma tomatos” ($12), and then the “warm rabbit salad- mustard marinated loin of rabbit, with a rosemary, garlic noodle and mesclun salad drizzled with a balsamic vinaigrette” ($15). You’ll forget that the salad mentions noodles, and they will be a surprise to you later. You’ll probably also instruct your dining companion to order the seafood platter, even though you’re not that big on kai moana, but you know that she’ll dither otherwise. She’ll order it with a side of greens, and you’ll both hope that the greens will come out at the same time as her platter, which should arrive around the same time as your first entree.

The seafood platter will arrive with your haloumi, and it will be large and glorious and good-looking enough that you’ll snaffle up some of raw fish with green chillies, and the chilli and garlic squid which is super tasty but still squid-textured, unfortunately. You’ll avoid the prawns, mussels, salmon dip and fresh anchovies, and wish that you didn’t try the smoked fish cos it’s not to your fancy, but you’ll nevertheless think that it looks like a bloody good time for someone with a taste for the sea, and well priced at $20. Meanwhile your haloumi entree is small, and you’ll devour it quickly and gratefully. When she sees that you’ve now stacking mussel shells on your empty plate, the waitress will offer to send out your rabbit while your dining companion is still pigging her way through the seafood, and you’ll remember to ask for her greens as well. You won’t receive either until after the seafood has been cleared, however, and your dining companion won’t get cutlery until you ask for it, whereupon the waiter will say that it’s policy to eat brocolini with your fingers. You’ll forgive him for this though, because he’s trying very hard to squeeze out a few more drops from the wine bottle. The rabbit will taste like gamey chicken, and the warm surprising pasta a little odd in combination with celery, but it’ll make you happy nevertheless. You’ll each pay $45 and leave with fat tummies.

Sunday July 21

You’ll have to excuse me if I fall asleep in the middle of typing this. I’m very very tired. Too much debuchary and the like – either that or just too much drinking. KateH adn I had a big debriefing on the phone today and it turns out that neither of us can remember walking from the Supper Club to Oporto, which is kinda amusing. Also, I’m in trouble with her, but if I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb (ha! when’s the last time you heard THAT expression?) so I’ll relate a little story to you about her right now. After all it’s not often that I get to mock her. Anyways, so we were talking to this girl at the rooftop party who had a flower in her hair, and KateH was like “oh I can smell your rose from here” and the girl was like “but it’s a camelia” and more to the point, she pulled it out and showed us that it was fake. What Kate was in fact smelling was the rose moisturiser she had on her own hands. What a dick! Heh. Okay, so it was probably much much funnier at the time.

So today I slept in til almost 2pm, then vegetated in front of the TV for large periods of time, feeling ever so slightly ill, but not too bad. Much much later, Clay Bops and I went out to dinner at Salsa on Richmond Road. It was really small and cozy and warm, and the owner was lovely and the food was excellent, so it comes highly recommended. So there. And yeah, basically that’s all I have to say. I have to go to school tomorrow, poos. But luckily class doesn’t start until 11am. Have I mentioned lately how madcrazy hectic my scheduale is this semester? Thank fuck I’m not taking four papers. As it is, I have three classes on monday, two on tuesdays, one on wednesday then 4.5 hours of work, three classes then 2.5 hours of work on Thursday and I’m working 9-5 on Fridays. Madness. Okay, so real people work a lot more than that, but I’m not really real, remember. Bed for me now – before midnight even. Crazy.

xojo

The phone rang early this morning (ie, before 11am) and I was like “fuck I hate people!” only of course, it was Maree, who was ringing to ask what time I was flying down to Wellington, cos maybe she was on the same flight, and as it turned out, she was. I read the Herald and discovered that i was mentioned top’o the list in Sideswipe, so I cut the article out and stuck it to my wall with 3M® Scotch Tape. Bopha and I had lunch at a very nice newish cafe on St Benedicts Street, and then I packed and took a cab to Maz’s, and we took a taxi-chitted taxi to the airport and Maz was a spaz, and there was no leg room, and also, there was no window. But that was the first time i’ve flown not by myself since I was fourteen (oh I’m such a loner) so that was cool. Mum and Karen picked me up from the airport, adn we met my daddy at Astoria for a drink cos Anji was working there, and then went to Arizona for dinner. Karen and I both sent our steaks back, cos they were blacked adn dry and not at all medium rare, and it took an hour for them to bring us some water. I filled in the customer survey alright. But the steak was nice the second time around, at least. I am nearing my protein stage, I think. And now i’m home, and sleeeeepy and my wrists hurt, so no more stories for you.

Oh, and apologies to anyone who was in Arizona tonight who saw more than they wanted to when I flashed my boobies at my parents cos they asked.

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.

Monday, June 19th, 2000

I kept waking up all night and going back to sleep. Anji told me a couple of times to stop snoring. She herself was snoring too though! But anyways, yes, I woke up about 9am although that felt like 11am to me, which was good. Anji went out with Mike to get her hair dyed, so I stayed to potter around the house. I heated pizza under their funny grill, read Lolita and wrote in my journal. It feels a little more chore-like now to record everything, but I want records so I’ll have to get over that. Anji came home around 12.30 and showed me stacks and stacks of photos before we finally went for lunch.

We went to Atomic, because Anji said they had the best coffee. Fuck it was sooooooooo good. The place reminds us both of Olive – limited food selection, because the focus is on the perfect cup of coffee. But I had a cibatta sandwich anyways, with brie and advacado and salad and capsicums and mmmm it was yummy. Then we went to a net cafe, so Anji could check her email. I checked mine as well – I only7 had one from Jody, and sent a group SMS to Shirley, Maree, Popular Kate and Brad. I also showed Anji my cd rom. She’s threatened to chant “cunt cunt cunt” to me while I sleep so that I start to believe it.

We walked to a mall so Anji could pick up a shoe she was having fixed, and go to the movies. The place had purple carpet and walls, with gold painted pillars and screens – very swish. And the actual theatre had sparkly gold speakers and comfy seats with lots and lots of leg room. The movie we saw was pretty dumb, but kind of cute anywas. It was called Keeping the Faith and stared Ben Stiller as a rabbi, Edward Norton as a priest, and Jenna Elfman as the chick they were both in love with. Edward Norton – what a spunk, man! So it passed the time nicely.

After that, we walked home and sat around for a while before Anji decided she was hungry, so we went out for my birthday dinner. We just went to the end of Napier Street, so a place called “Growlers” that she said was extremely casual. Our waiter had blonde dreads and a cigarette tucked behind his ear. He dropped a hunk of bread with a knife stuck in it onto our table, which was to be drizzled with olive oil and devoured. There was also a small bowl of olives which I steadily made my way through. Yum! I never used to like olives, until one time I had them on pizza with pineapple at Craccum whilst very very stoned, and that seemed to be a winning combination. And then of course there was the Martini phase where the olive was the best bit of the whole drink! But yeah, anyways. Anji had wild mushroom risotto, which I’d been considering, 0-until I saw Duckling on Black Rice. Oh my god it was so so good! It came with prossocuitio, and creamy lemon sauce as well, and I was just in absolute heaven. As we ate, we drank a very nice bottle of red wine, and talked. It’s astonishing the parallels she was able to draw from her relationship with Son of Satan.

Anyways, then Mike came to join us for dessert. I was completely full so I didn’t order anything, he just spoonfed me a bit of his sticky date pudding because he said it would change my life. Here’s hoping!

Later in the evening, we smoked pot and Anji got real stoned real fast, so she went up to bed. I stayed up later, reading magazines and watching the boys playing Ape Escape.

20/6/00

Anji had to go to work at 12, I think, so she got up before me. Once I finally got up, I just pottered around reading Lolita, writing my journal and that kind of thing. Eventually i had a shower and got dressed. Then Timmy and Mike were going into town and they invited me to go along too, so I did. We walked in, and they spent ages in a comic book shop. I read a comic of Brothers Grimm faerie tales that were pretty nasty. I could remember most of them from my childhood, though I can’t quite place them. Maybe I had some of the stories on tape, and others in a novel book, as opposed to something illustrated.

We went to Hungry Jacks, and I had a grilled chicken burger. It wasn’t as nice as I remembered them to be. Ahh well. Mike told me to take more drugs so that I’d like crowds better. he also said his ex girlfriend always dresses up as Roller Girl to go to the Box on Retro Night. They made fun of my pop obsessions. I didn’t really mind.

Then we went to Myers, and looked at male underwear for a bit. I never got to pose very much in underwear, unless you count slips. Which may or may not be a good thing. Then we went upstairs to spend ages looking at videos, cds, playstation games, television….. It was quite quite boring. But still, I guess it was good of them to get me out of the house! And then we went to another playstation store and stayed there for a million years. Damn I wanna cd burner and a digital caamera! I gotta get me a decent job! Then we took a very crowded tram back to Brunswik Street. I felt a leetle bit bad cos I probably looked scowly, cos I was a little bored, and a lot tired and shy. So we had a drink at Joe’s, and I waited for Anji while they went to Bar Open. Once Anji had her staff drink, we went and joined them, and drank a bottle of red to their white.

Then we debated for a while as to where to have dinner (for a change) and Anji said we should go to a pub near home called the Builders Arms, so we did. The food wasn’t all that – i had lamb fillets on greek salad – but we played pool while eating, which made it more fun. Mike made it his mission to teach me to play – he said he’d made his ex one of the best pool players in uckland. Everytime he leaned in to help me with a shot, I wanted to laugh at wha a cliche it seemed like, but unfortunatly, he was just trying to teach me pool, I think. Damn! Ahh well, I guess the lesbians are sleeping in his room anyways!

We got home in time for Buffy, of course. Before it was on, the boys were playingp psx, and Anji got all shitty with them because she was bored. But once miked rolled her a joint, she was better. I’ve realised the reason I don’t enjoy smoking pot that much here is because they put tobacco in it, so it’s just not nice. Apparently, that’s because the pot is grown hydroponically, so it’s heaps stronger so they have to thin it out, but blaargh why?

After Buffy, it was pretty much straight upstairs to sleep. But OH MY GOD Willow shacks up with a girl! “I’M NOT MARRYING SOME BLOODY LESBIAN”

We rang Neil to say Happy Birthday to him. I lied adn told him I’d gotten him something TREMENDOUS for his birthday. Well, Anji and I might get him a Grease Karaoke video! Mum told Anji she’d pay for shoes for me if I could find any. Well, I haven’t found any. I can’t relaly go for guys dress shoes, so I might have to go for some streetwear style. But I really don’t like Royal shaped ones, you know?