Hubris.co.nz

1. I really, really wish that Holly and Hef were still together, and that they’d get married and have a baby.
2. I am not that ashamed to say that really like the movie Titanic, mostly because it reminds me of being 17 and going on the ferry to the Gathering,
3. Unless something happens in them, I change my sheets once a fortnight, even though I have so many sets of linen that they fill a large filing cabinet.
4. I haven’t smoked pot or done any illegal drugs since 2005, and I won’t be doing any ever again on account of being crazy, but I miss getting stoned, a lot.
5. Although you wouldn’t be able to tell from the state of my desk and bedroom floor, I can be really anal about my possessions, and really like to keep my books, DVDs and music in alphabetical & chronological order.
6. Right now I have at least six types of moisturiser that I use regularly
7. I have editing rights on about seven different websites, or maybe more.
8. I am still in contact with only three people that I’ve had sex with.
9. At last count (which is right now) I have pashed 33 people, or it might have been 43 because I was adjusting my stereo and messed up my hands. No wait, it’s 34/44. I _always_ forget one of the three people who I’ve had sex with that I’m still friends with (sorry!). Of those 34 people, I don’t know the names of two of them – the girl on New Year’s 2001/2 and the woman I kissed at Kowhai’s party last year.
10. I often struggle to understand why anyone would be friends with me.
11. I am really amazing at guestimating the perfect pours when I am making cocktails. What I put in the shaker will fill however many glasses I have at whatever size they are perfectly.
12. My least favourite phrase right now is “value for money”.
13. I vote Green to ease my guilt for not doing enough good deeds with the privileges that I have in life.
14. When I was 12, a friend of my mother’s grabbed my ass and winked at me in the way that you should not wink at a 12 year old girl. I slept with my pocket knife under my pillow that night. Now he’s on a Lotto ad and my parents make jokes about him. I do not appreciate that at all.
15.My iPod has three songs by 30 Seconds To Mars on it. I’m kind of embarrassed but I love My So-Called Life so dearly that I can’t not. Plus it’s Bambi’s fault.
16. If you forced me to choose only one Daily Show correspondent to watch for the rest of my life, apart from Jon Stewart, of course, I think I would have to go with Demetri Martin, but it would depend on whose piece I had seen most recently.
17. There are empty coffee cups that are at least six months old in my car.
18. When I used to see a counselor in Newmarket, it was $130. My counselor in Wellington is $85 when she’s not covered by work, but my psychiatrist who wears vaguely Cosby-as-done-by-Hallenstines-in-1998-sweaters is $170.
19. I am now physically incapable of sleeping without the aid of zopiclone. This worries me a lot but I am too crazy right now to try and come off it.
20. Although I am still angered by the stupidness of their ads, I buy Colgate Triple Action toothpaste. I will never buy a Nair product again though for the way that they state that you can’t be feminine and hairy. For the record, I am hairy like an animal.
21. I worry that if someone was attracted to me it would be because they have a fetish for fat chicks, and then I judge them for that, and I judge myself for judging them. It is fun times.
22. I frequently find myself wishing that I had the power to snap necks when people keep talking and annoying me.
23. I often don’t rinse out the coffee plunger at work. Yes, I leave it for the cleaning staff to deal with.
24. I like my coffee as a large latte, my white wine aromatic, my red wine boisterous, and my cocktails strong enough to overpower an elephant.
25. I have had almost a bottle of wine tonight and I suspect that at least one of my answers has made you very uncomfortable that you asked.

I’m going to Auckland after work today. Tonight I’m having dinner at Canton, hurrah! Text me if you’re in Auck and I forgot to invite you. There’s a spare seat at our table. Then on Friday night I’m going to Muse. I’m up until Sunday, so please feel free to fill in my time table for me.

I have lots of stuff to write about but I haven’t got time, so very briefly:

1. The clever Alison Green has created an archives page for the Gathering (you remember that, right?) which you should definitely go check out and my story about long distance IRC love and bad acid trips can be found here.

2. Please go vote for the Wellingtonista Awards, and try to get into our Awards Night. I have a stunning pink dress to wear to it. I’m going to look damn hot. When you’re voting, I recommend voting for the poached pear punch at Superfino as the best drink, and of course for the Bowling/Quiz Leagues as best event.

3. I am so very in love with the new Q CD for the best of 2007, especially Hard Fi, Rilo Kiley and Jamie T – “I ain’t an abacus but you can count on me”. I’m pissy with PJ Harvey for coming to Auckland on the 13th of February when I’m going to be up there for the 8th. Err, presuming I get an invite to my cousin’s wedding, that is. Are you coming back for it, Cous?

A rediscovered fragment that should have been in 101 Stories if I’d remembered about it, that I found tonight when I was looking for a story I wrote about The Gathering to send to Ali.

The sex I used to have made me feel like a bystander in my own life. He would move my legs around, hoist them over his shoulder, turn me on my side, or whatever he wanted, and I would lie there compliant, thinking “it’s not him”. It was only when he went to hold my hand afterwards that I felt that something was wrong. I am not in love with you, please don’t try to force intimacy on me. I am fucking you precisely because you are not him.

And it felt weird, someone different touching me in different ways, in different places. His cock was totally different, of course, and the feelings involved were different. It was easy to spell them out in this case: I am drunk, you are not him and I need to be with someone who’s not him to prove that I can be with someone who is not him. That could be the mantra of each thrust into me. I.am.not.the.man.you.are.in.love.with.I.am.not.your.whole.world.I.have.not.left.you.for.your.best friend.

So it doesn’t matter that he seems like he is a sexual deviant. It doesn’t matter that he rejoices in my hairy legs that he takes the time to rub his cock up and down. It doesn’t matter when he licks my armpits, or tries to fuck me in the morning when he’s still wearing the same condom. He is no one. He is nothing. It doesn’t matter.

I’m not sure of the words we said to each other or anything, only the look that he gave me; the single dirtiest look in the history of one night stands EVER. It wasn’t a “I want to fuck you” look; it was a “I’m going to fuck you in this position and this position and this position, and you’re going to love it, because you’re a dirty whore and you want nothing but my cock inside you” statement. And of course he was right.

If only it could have been simply that simple. He was a mystery, a boy of extreme contrasts. He was sweet and charming in conversation, but he had my clothes off the second we got in his bedroom door. He didn’t call a taxi as soon as I said I’d go home with him because he said that would be presumptuous, but straight away on his bed he told me he had a treat for me and rolled on a spearmint condom. For a nice guy who told me that he hadn’t had sex outside a relationship before, he still managed to fuck me in half a dozen positions, transitioning seamlessly between them. He played me Jeff Buckley, and then a song he wrote named after a girl with the same name as me, but also wanted to fuck me in the ass.

That’s the first time, of course. The second time is a year later, when he’s had a chance to get back together with his ex girlfriend and then break up with her again, and I’ve had a chance to realize that running out while he was sleeping because I thought I was in love with someone else and terrified of developing intimacy with him and using the excuse of not having a Connection was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. There were two beers each in a pub, conversation where we talked about our families and how bad Sex in the City was, and we really seemed to be on the same page. I was able to say that I wished I had got to know him the year before, and he smiled at me. It felt really nice, but I was still completely surprised when he said “How about I come over to your house later with a bottle of wine?”

Then when he kissed me on the street outside, my legs felt like they were going to buckle underneath me and I ended up walking down the street in a total daze. At home later, I watched videos with my flatmate in an attempt to keep calm – after I’d changed my underwear, of course. He arrived, shyly knocking on the front door, we opened the promised wine. My flatmate stealthily retreated as soon as the movie ended, and him and I were left together on the couch. So, alone, not at a party, or a bar, or a cafe or any of the places I’d seen him since we went to bed. Over the course of the conversation, my legs crept up onto the couch so that our knees were touching. Our tastes in music were dissected to find places where we were compatible. And finally, we put our glasses down on the ground and he took my hand and we kissed again, this time for much longer than the pavement encounter earlier that night.

If I had melted into him at that very moment, I wouldn’t have been surprised. He’d been on my mind in various guises for a year – first in sweet nostalgia, and then in regret for leaving, and then in “I WANT HIM AGAIN NOW” capacity.

I wasn’t talking to her. He wasn’t talking to me for that reason, and it all stemmed from the same thing – good lovers making great enemies and best friends falling out over a boy and all the usual cliches. And there they were at the bar that I was at, and I’d been drinking beer, bubbly, and more beer. As soon as I saw them I sunk shots of Green Chartreuse to hide it, but it didn’t work, I still knew they were there. And why should they get to run me out of every bar in town? Plus, I’d run out of money for liquor and I knew that they had large bank balances. I stumbled over and plonked myself down in their line of vision. I was hot and knew it, after all. My boobs were on display for the entire world to see and it felt really nice.

I’m not sure who was more surprised – her or him. I guess we’ll say Her, because I did sometimes talk to him, even if he’d been ignoring me as of late. “Oh my god,” they said, “Joanna’s talking to us”. I suggested to them that they owed me a drink or two and she scampered off. More Corona with shots beside. I told them how no one liked me anymore. I was leaning forward to talk to them, my arm resting across his knees. They knew all the names that I was mentioning; they asked me over and over if I was okay, if I was really all right. They genuinely cared about me. I leaned forward more. She moved off to talk to other people and I took her seat. All of a sudden we were kissing each other with more fierce intensity than we’d felt in three years. Hands were all over each, in places that shouldn’t be in a nightclub. If it had been possible, we might have devoured each other whole. But instead, I was across his lap, whispering filthy things in his ear, rubbing his cock through his trousers in what I thought was a covert manner, promising him pleasures beyond what we’d ever experienced together before. I don’t know where his wife has gone, but really, it doesn’t matter as I follow him into the men’s room. He has me pinned to the wall and his hands are so rough in what inside my jeans that I have to tell him he’s hurting me as my top is dropped on the floor and my bra is pulled up. Our mouths are dissolving into one another, his hands are rough on my breasts and all I can do is tell him how much I want to fuck him. Always responsible, he asks me if I have any condoms, but of course, my bag and my jacket are somewhere back out in the bar, stashed under the seat where we first started getting dirty, and so that’s a no.

He has a solution for this of course, and he shoves my head down to his crotch, telling me to suck his cock. I do this gladly, reaching into his jeans like I’ve done a million times before. I want to show him how good I am, how much better I’ve become since he left me, and why he never should have left me. I do the best I can, and it’s not long before the pre-come is dribbling into my mouth, the salty taste turning me on instead of grossing me out. The fact that we’re in this barren concrete space makes the whole experience that much hotter. This is illicit near-fucking, and my god that’s a turn-on. His hands are on my head, pushing back my hair to secure his view and to make sure I don’t move my mouth away. I can taste his tang and it’s all I want for now, all that I could ever want, but there’s a knocking at the door, and he says that it’s her – his wife.

Thursday the 7th of January, 1999

I dunno, I just so feel like there’s something missing from my life. Now that Charly is staying with Amy, I have too much time to think, and this is resulting in me feeling all hollow. We all rented “the Ice Storm” tonight, and I guess that echoes my feeling of emptiness. Except you don’t see me sleeping with Mr Russia, or showing myself to Catholic Richard & Matthew. (Those are my neighbours in case you were wondering). It was so scary watching those freaks live out their loveless lives, just dying to get a little excitement. I mean, my life is excitingish, I guess, but I dunno…. when I was parking outside my house tonight, I just didn’t want to get out of the car. I wanted to stay in it and go somewhere. I don’t know where – I didn’t think that far.

I’m very emotionless these days (sure, I say that after bawling my eyes out after driving in a hole). Okay, maybe a better way to put it would be I just don’t CARE. Like, I told Annette I am SO sick of listening to my friends bitching about their men, and she was like “note: don’t bitch to Jo” but what I meant basically is that I can’t be bothered hearing Charlotte, and I don’t want to hear about Amy and Neil. Amy said tonight that she’s single, but I know that won’t last, and it makes me so helpless that I just want to wash my hands of it entirely. Does that make me fully heartless? Yeah I guess it does.

And there’s no one I’m lusting after right now. Not even like a crush. I don’t want Hugh anymore, I’ve decided. (Oh shock horror, there’s his name). That was just a slight infatuation stemming from how funny it is when he gets drunk and comes on to me. That’s another way that I’m empty – that I get more kicks out of turning people down than I would accepting them. I prefer people disliking me than not knowing me. “I’d rather be hated than pitied”. Go Go the Spice Girls.

Where is this all leading to? Maybe I’m just feeling like this because I am moving in four days and I don’t really want to. Maybe it’s the Aunty Flo. I played Quake today, for the first time ever, but I didn’t kill anything because I sucked at it. But I will learn. Yes please, I am a geek. No I’m not. I’m a giant hollow bubble, and I’m so fragile and I really don’t know what’s come over me. This is so Verdana. Next I’ll tell you about my lithium prescription and my new cigarette burns up my arms.

I can hardly remember the summer of 96/97. 95/96 is vivid, as is 97/98, but I guess maybe because 96/97 was boyless there aren’t so many associated memories. All it was noteworthy for is my first acid trip and the first Gathering.

Thursday the 31st of December (entry a)

A year ago today, at this time (3.45pm) I was at the Gathering, butterflies eating me up from the inside out, because in less than two hours I was going to meet someone who would ultimately change my life. I tried so hard yesterday to finish up my Gathering story, so that it wouldn’t have taken me over a year to write it, but there’s so much to be said in it, and so many descriptions, so I didn’t manage. It was so bizzare though, because as I was reading through it all, I felt my stomach tighten in nervousness, just like it did on the actual day. But that was after all last year, and I should leave it in the past, yeah?

I’m not really looking forward to tonight all that much. It’s raining, and our plans just seem so….. vague. I don’t think Anji got me a trip, and while in theory there’s nothing wrong with drinking, it’s just so…… usual. (Old and jaded and snobby, that’s me!). Still, seeing Jo again will probably hype me up, if she’s not moping too much about not being at the Gathering with her boy. Usually if I have low expectations, things are great, so tonight should be okay. Fingers crossed. But I did have a rather disturbing dream about it this morning.

I went to a party at Anji’s flat, which of course, being a dream, looked totally different. At first it was really really great, lots of fun people, and pink and yellow creamy cocktails. I even saw the band Garbage floating around and mingling. I knew Jo and her friends Lance and Mischa were supposed to be along soon. Then I spotted Megan Macillwain (sp) and Katie Sullivan – girls from middle school at ASIJ. Megan was the class slut, who was compeltly two faced, and Katie was my mortal enemy in seventh grade – although I got to like her better later on. Annnnyways, I went up to them, and slapped Megan really hard, going “you used to be so cruel to me”. She was like “You’re absolutely right”. I was in complete shock, so I said “really?” and she just laughed at me. Bitch. Then Katie pointed out something behind me, so as I turned around to see it, she slapped ME really hard – I could feel it in my dream, and the two of them went off laughing. I was really upset, because I thought that if I ever saw ASIJ people again I’d just laugh, because I’m so different now, but apparently not. I wandered around aimlessly for ages, really really sad, and for some reason changed into my pajamas. I really really wanted Jo to be there, but she wasn’t, so I went to call her only I didn’t have her number. Karen gave me phone books, which I’d search through for hours, before realising they were the classified ads from the newspaper. Eventually I went out in the rain and managed to find Jo, but by the time we made it back to the party, it was all over, and only Aaron (of enormas penis fame) was left behind, cleaning up.

So is that a scary omen or what?

Anyways, this is only Entry A. There’ll be a B tommorrow. So Y’all come back now, y’hear?

Thursday the 17th of December

So today, everyone’s favourite American President is killing civillians because he doesn’t want to be impeached. Don’t even TRY and tell me it’s a coincidence. I voted for him in the mock elections we held at school back in Seventh grade – yeah, like I’d choose Ross Perot or Bush. I didn’t think that having an affair would in any way make him not be a good president – unless he’s going to declare war like this to get the heat off himself. The thing is, I’m not an Iraqi, and I’m not American, so whatever’s going on ovre there really shouldn’t concern me too much, but it does.

UI moved to Japan right after the Gulf War, into an American based society. I didn’t really think the war was such a big deal, because I was only 10, and all I knew about it was the odd headline or 20 from the Evening Post, and those fireworks images from CNN, that TV One piped in especially. In Japan however, apparently there were major threats of terrorism, so much so that the school buses had the “American School In Japan” logo taken off them, and students were told to tell everyone they were Canadian. It’s a fucked up world we live in. Then at 2.30am today, just before I went to bed (yeah okay, I’m writing this entry the day after) I thought I heard the distant roar of air-raid sirens, but figured there was nothing I could do anyways.

Why the hell am I talking about all this crap? There’s so much today that’s my own life that I could talk about. It’s December 17th. Those of you that know me will know why I’m moping. Those that don’t can hang on for it while I get through my basic day.

I worked two hours at my aunt Leonie’s house this morning. I did some typing for her (her keyboard was too clacky, so I made so many hidi errors, not like on this speedy wee baby) made some changes to her address database, and started cateloguing her collection of Japanese books that she bought off my grandfather’s collection (other side of the family)for her Nakano group. All terrific fun of course. Luckily I’m getting paid $10 an hour cash.

That was probably about as ragey as I got all day. I spent a lot of time revamping my website, trying to use Dreamweaver. For those of you who didn’t spot it, there’s now an extra table of contents. And there’s a couple of new sections too, maybe. I spent ages trying to get rollovers to work. They worked first time when i was just playing,but now I want them they don’t. Ain’t that just typical? That’s okay, cos apart from hurting my wrist, it also managed to keep my thoughts off other things. I guess I should probably explain, huh? This day last year is when I lost my heart. And my head too.

I guess it sort of serves me right, cos I’d mainly started talking to him cos he was always so flirty in the room, and that made another guy I knew jealous, which is always fun. It got to the stage that I was talking almost exclusivly to him on IRC – I stopped going in rooms, and only messaged my girlfriends to tell them things he’d said to me. I was so fully smitten, I guess because people told me that he had a crush on me, and we were labeled as a couple even though we weren’t. The week before, on the 10th I’d gotten heinously drunk at my friend Amy’s house, and had come on IRC going “I looooooooooooooooooooooooooooveeeeeeeeeee you” (I only know this from reading logs of it) which was just disgusting. I managed to get away with that though, by blaming it on Amy and Fiona. But yeah, back the 17th. I was up late chatting to him, and talking to Andee too, when he made some sort of comment about how I didn’t want him to say that he loved me until we’d met. I started crying, being the sap that I am, thinking there was no way he could mean that in the way I wanted him to, but when I finally got up the courage to ask him about it like an hour later, it turned out that yes, he did have a crush on me. There was no way in hell that either of us wanted to have an internet relationship, so we were going to wait till we met at the Gathering (aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah you say, more pieces falling into place) to see what the story was. I stayed up all night talking to him then, only leaving because my dad was getting up in ten minutes. It was the most amazing glowing feeling, despite the fact that it was obviously a doomed situation. I’ve never had someone like me mutually before. The whole next day was bathed in gold. I couldn’t stop smiling. He made me the most gorgeous site for Xmas, with this picture on it that he made – featuring the glowing orb of the sunrise we saw together in different cities. Sigh. So sappy.

Of course, in the two weeks leading up to the Gathering, we had a big really stupid fight, and he also revealed that he was still in love with his ex, but aaaah well. There was still enough there for me to be scared shitless of meeting him. So yeah, and then he thought there was no spark, but he still came to stay with me, and I fell head over heels in love with him, and he just didn’t care. Maybe I should post the letter I wrote him. At the time, it was so important and special to me, but that WAS a year ago. I just like telling stories which is why you’re all hearing about this now. That and well – he is still sort of in my head, just because I still feel like it’s last year sort of, because I’m on holiday again. That’s okay though. It can be fun reminiscing. To quote myself:

Replaying the past is like having all these good (and bad) movies to watch, that you don’t have to go to the shop to rent so they’re heaps cheaper and slightly more interactive

Saturday the 12th of December

Saturday. This makes two weekend nights I’ve been home in a row. No wonder I’m depressed. EVERYONE is either busy tonight, or too tired to go out. Jen Troup told me to come to this d&b rave at the James Smith, but I don’t wanna go if I can’t go with anyone. Sigh. And there are like a thousand movies I wanna see and all, but yet I’m just sitting here at my computer. I’m really trying to finish off my Gathering story, but it’s hard. It was nearly a year ago after all, and it was just so… I dunno. Very intense.

I was in Tandys today, and I saw the Gathering cd and I just about cried. I so so so want to go this year, but I can’t afford to, and none of my friends or sisters are going. Besides, I figure it’s time I moved on. I mean, I’ve been to the Gathering two years in a row, and while both times were very different, they were still the same location. I should get some more experiences. In 95/96, I went to the party where I met Ben. That was just a regular couple of parties, and that turned out great, so I don’t NEED to be up on a hill to have a good time, do I? Besides, if I go to the Gathering this year, I’ll just spend the whole time thinking about Matt, which I don’t need to be doing. It’s funny cos I went to Nelson in 96/97 so that I wouldn’t be thinking about Ben, which is when I wound up going to the inagural Gathering. The next year I went back with my sisters and to meet Matt. And now I think that it’d be a good idea for me not to go, so that I can move on with my life. Jo said that I could hang with her, which’ll be choice, if I can just relax and actually get comfortable with strangers.

Today was her picnic in Civic Square, which was cool. She has so many friends man! Just like a butterfly flitting from flower to flower is Our Jo. I just felt a wee bit out of place, because I didn’t know anyone, and I was really tired and not at all chatty. But it was cool anyways, I still had fun. It’s just funny how seamlessly she blended in with MY friends. I guess some people are just more outgoing than others. I’m just not so comfortable in large groups. Or in any enviroment that’s not my own. For example, on chat, I’ll be like the queen bitch, and totally dominate, but pretty much only in #left or possibly #mirc – rooms that I’m used to. That’s okay though, cos I know I’m so much more outgoing than I used to be. I wish that ASIJ held a reunion in Wellington, or my Onslow friends came to Auckland. I’ve got this real need for revenge, or to like, prove that I’m better now. It’s kind of sick I guess. If I still have that need, maybe I’m not better. Fucking hell! I’m thinking too much. This is the problem with staying at home and being bored. I watched ‘To Die For’ with my parents, but that only took up like two hours. Now I’m talking to some guy called Mark from the Vision project, and I’ve sent him some of my short stories that are going to be used in collabarative efforts. The only problem is that ‘Frozen’, one of my favourites, and the one he wants to use, is the story that Justine stole, and had published on reckoning.net. Bitch. I mean, it’s weird cos I don’t know her at all except from hearing a few things about her from Simon, and from her webpage, but I feel like we could maybe have been friends if we’d met a different way. That doesn’t excuse her stealing my whole story concept and claiming as her own, without giving me an inspiration credit or anything. I hate being petty, but it really does bug me that she did that.

While I have all this time, I’ll tell you a wee little story that i was just thinking of while working in the Bakehouse yesterday. No, actually I won’t. This entry is long enough already, and not everything needs to come out on here.

Friday the 11th of December

I worked at the Bakehouse AGAIN today, and NO ONE, female or otherwise, came on to me. Maybe I’m loosing my charm. But OOOOOH Oooooooh, something exciting DID happen to me – I got quoted in Annette’s journal, and now I feel like a star. Thanks Annette! Not that I know her, other than reading her journal every day. I have like five people’s journals bookmarked. I feel like a voyer sometimes, but it’s so fun, especially when I start interacting with those people a little.

Ummm. That’s really about all. Thanks for reading this anyways! I’m so sure there was other shit I was going to mention, but now I can’t remember. I sent a letter to sothere.com today. I bet it won’t get accepted but oh well.

AAAAAAAAAAAH can’t take the pressure but I have nothing else to say. Umm Helena’s journal entry today is SO nasty, and so I figure if you can’t say anything nice don’t say anything at all, and I’m going to cut this short now.

What to give Joanna for Xmas

cds – or just cd vouchers to make sure you get it right

*The Gathering CD, either Placebo, Portishead Live (enhanced version), “My Body the Hand Grenade” (Hole bsides) etc

makeup – I especially want some rogue pulp loreal lipsticks in any colour

more vouchers from any store

umm stuff. Cool stuff.

Jewellery

stuff from infomercials, especially knives and pots\

spice girls merchandise – but only if it features Geri

Radiohead’s Video compliation thing – Seven Television Commercials -