So one of the things that we talked about last night in the so many hours of conversation that my throat was sore this morning about how it’s so much easier to write when you’re unhappy because when you’re joyous you wanna hold it all to yourself and just smile over it, and so I’m going to make an effort to share my glee with the world. Although of course, in that case maybe i should play something other than the Cure, but that’d mean like, Brian Adams or something – my parents have an awful lot of cds, but very few good ones, since Mum seems to have hidden all her NZ music.

But here’s where we’re at. There is a mouse running around in ym bedroom in Auckland, which meant I slept on the couch on Tuesday night, restlessly, having weird codeine spiked dreams. I shrieked at the mouse, and wanted to jump up on a chair. When I rang Tom for reassurance he said I sounded the most feminine that i ever had. And now of course, my landlord’s phoneline doesn’t work, and her cellphone is out of range, so I am not a happy camper at all! Or at least, I wouldn’t be, if i was still in Auckland. But as it happens, I am in Wellington, with a big stupid grin on my face. So there.

Oh for fucks sake Tom, is there anyone you DON’T know? Stop trying to be Kate Hamlin. Or Justin, I guess this case is, kinda.

Where was I? Oh, Bo and I struggling with my suitcase up to behind the Sheraton so I could get the bus to the airport (I have now traded with Momma for her suitcase on wheels), then the flight to Wellington being completely bumpy and horrible. I was smiling like a crazy woman cos we all know i like being scared, whilst trying not to be sick as we landed. Then Momma picked me up and we had lunch at the Crank Cafe, and I got to go home and have a nap before having to drive her places in the van so she could get the tyres changed on the car. Mmmmm nap. And hten I took another one after that, so nice to not have to worry about mice running around. After that, I had dinner with Mummy and Daddy, and they dropped me off at Espressaholic to meet up with Fatty Si Si.

I had a drink there with his friends, and then as soon as we stepped out on the pavement, Henry started making me laugh because he really is a very strange boy. It was so nice to finally get to see Simon again too, cos he kicks so much ass. Anyways, so we headed up the road to Traffic, which was booked out for Ayna’s party. It is SUCH a nice venue, I am so totally going to have something there sometime. It’s the old Indian restaurant that used to be public loos before that (yes i know, it sounds wrong but it’s just so right). One round room at one end had a tiled floor, and a fresco ceiling and turntables set up in it, and the other round room at the other end had a pretty blue ceiling that ended up looking like the ceiling at the Civic to me, and persian rugs and low couches, and in between those rooms is an area with a pool table, and then another area with a regular nice kinda bar in it, and it’s all painted dark red, adn there’s a fire in the bar bit. So yeah, fantastic venue. And there was just such a good vibe going on, cos there were three people having their birthdays, so it was all friends and the place was full, and it just felt really nice. Lotsa djs took turns playing, and it was all fullspectrum drum&bass and also lotsa different kinds of hiphop, and there was a guy mcing over the drumandbass at times, so it was very cool. I danced my ass off. I talked to lots and lots of people. I lisped my way through half a little piece’o cardboard. Si Henry and I sat in the corner of the chillout room for ages and ages and ages, covering a heatvent up with a plant cos it was too hot and I felt like iw as going to die from laughing so hard at them singing a little worker’s song – stampy stampy sorty sorty stacky stacky. If only i had a song like that, I’m sure my workdays would fly by too. At some other stage of the night, a girl pulled out a container of kalamata olives out of her bag, and Si had a sack of pistachios. I love Wellington people who carry backpacks! I wormed my way into conversations with random people when I got bored,a dn defended the “dark arts” that I studied before finally hearing that one of the guys I was talking to worked in Communications anyway. I suggested that someone run around the block if they had too much energy and lauhged soundly when they actually did. I danced and danced and danced and danced, adn then I danced some more. The music was amazing and everyone was dancing so well. I love poeple who do mad things with their feet. It was such a good night! Si left sometime around 12, and I thought about going with him cos he’d said his flatmate was away so I coulda crashed there and saved cabfare, but i was having far too much fun. I didn’t really get much of a chance to talk to Ayna,b ut she seemed really happy that I was there, so that was cool. One very e’d up girl who I’d never met before hauled me to my feet and told me off for crossing my arms in front of myself – “you don’t have to cover yourself up! you’ve got a beautiful body (with a little handmovement curvy drawing thing too)! don’t you like yourself?”. She was scary and made me self concious, wheras before then I’d been far too happy and comfortable and mellow and chilled out to even think about shit like that (oh and i was wearing my cleavage top, which I love). Eventually I just sat on a couch on the dancefloor for hours, having a long and engrossing conversation about the history of Soul Music (“I love hte vibe,” he says, and then he says “let’s just sit here and enjoy it” and he leans in even closer, puts his head on my shoulder and we almost fall asleep). And then I walked him across town and had ot leave in Cuba Street cos there wouldn’t have been any more taxis, and the driver was just grinning at me going “so you had a good night did you?” cos he would have seen the dithering, and hte hugs and the kisses on the cheek. And I smiled all the way home.

This morning Mummy woke me up for brunch – pancakes and bananas and pig, and she wrote me a list’o things to remember, and then they left, and I floated around the house all afternoon. This evening i went to another PR function, this one held in the Portrait Gallery of Bowen House. It was okay – I talked to some people. Steve Maharey (Minister of Tertiary Education and Broadcasting) gave a speech, adn then I went and talked to him and he gave me the name of the guy who runs his media unit so that i can express my interest in working htere. No one flat-out offered me a job. Then I went to see Anji, and she didn’t have a key to our house and i knew I’d locked myself out. I went home to meet up with KateB but our neighbours were out, and the laundry window was shut, so Kate and I had to drive back to town to Karen’s to get the key off her. My time down here is going to be so hectically social. Everyone wants a piece’o me, and while I want a piece’o everyone too, right now after last night, I think there are people that I want more pieces of than others. I’m filthy. Except that I’m actually not, because once again, when I actually really like someone, I respect them far too much to make a move. Darn.

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