Hold onto these words, I like to think that they might offer some protection against the night
It's 1:11 am. Exactly a week ago me ad Cath were leaving the Amanda Palmer gig in Wellington and starting our trek around the city to buy toilet paper. It was an awesome gig, although exhausting and hot. I had to have a wee sit down at the end, then got a bit stupid about word vomiting at Jason Webley. Amanda threw her lily into the crowd and Cath caught it and became Lilytits, and the smell warded off the BO of a boy who kept wafting at us.
We walked back to Ruby's house, over a fruit shop in Aro town, and collapsed into tired sweaty piles.
Sunday we had coffee at the most amazing coffee place down the road from her house. Delicious mochas made by an adorable boy with a mohawk. We got angry about the article condeming women that had C-sections as "too posh to push." Ugh.
Then we had breakfast at Sweet Mothers Kitchen. It was incredible. It was a hot morning and we managed to sneak in between breakfast and lunch rushes. Afterwards, we piked on doing city things and saw 127 Hours at the Embassy. I quite liked it, and was glad I watched it before the earthquake, because I wouldn't be able to deal with it now. The toilets there are fantastic, by the way, and we were caught taking photos.
That night was Jason Webley headlining at the San Fran Bath House and it was the most incredible show. We had fish and chips (and red bull!) in the park beforehand, and got there nice and early. I was paranoid about arriving on time but the locals (Ruby and Simon) were right that it would start ages after doors. I bought three cds from Jason himself and a print which is signed on the back with my name. Love it. And Jason in person is sweet and modest and lovely.
And when he plays live he's energetic and enthralling and !!! Ruby was surprised at how easily he got a Wellington crowd involved in the show. There was a massive tickle fight, and after the Drinking Song we were so very dizzy. He finished off with Music That Tears Itself Apart, and I was feeling the tingle magic in my fingers for hours afterwards, and healing people with it.
He opened with Captain, Where Are We Going Now? He did Icarus, and Map ("this is a love song, but if you dedicate it to anyone you'll probably get dumped"), In This Light, Against the Night, and he proffered Cath a pear in Dance While the Sky Crashes Down. Cath died amusingly. He played Last Song ("This is a song about the end of the world. It's the saddest song I've ever written, but at the same time it's the most optimistic") and Eleven Saints! (The audience was vocally sad after the line "if my cat looks sad it's because he knows he won't be going to heaven") And the version of Elephant Elephant he re-wrote for the Ignobal Prize award ceremony: Bacteria Bacteria. He did my favourite cover, In The Aeroplane Over The Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel, and maybe ten minutes of random 80s music - the audience yelled out songs, he worked them out on his accordian, and we all sang along. Sweet Dreams and Eye of the Tiger were particularly awesome. ("I think I will stop believing," he said, when a bunch of us at the front requested Journey.) At Amanda's show he did There's Not A Step We Can Take That Won't Bring Us Close, and divided us into violins and trombones (me and Cath were trombones).
I feel I've missed something, but he did say that he would come back to NZ, eventually. He was sorry he wasn't able to do a solo show in Christchurch. Then, when the earthquake hit, that's where he was, staying with Hera in New Brighton D:
It feels like a really long time ago. But it was only last weekend. Time is kind of screwed up. I fell asleep on the mattress in front of the TV about 7, was put into bed by the flatmates at 9:30 and slept till just after midnight. Now I'm awake again. We're watching Most Haunted. It's ridiculous. This man with Super Saiyan hair keeps getting possessed. Lol.
Yesterday I went for a walk and ended up walking an old woman called Rose to the rest home near West Spreydon, she was visiting people there. She'd been at a cooking class in town when the earthquake struck and had to walk home by herself. It took her two hours. We went into the dairy and I found her some mints because her eyes weren't dealing so well with the sudden change in light. She was lovely.
A lot of the houses around there smelled of sewage, though. I don't know if it was personal poo holes or seeping sewage, but, ugh. Smell baaad.
Going to Sumner was kind of horrific and unreal. On the way, Mum told me our optometrist, Paul Dunlop, had been killed. He was the nicest man with one of those lovely deep voices.
The house we went to was so munted. Walls ripped away. Stuff everywhere. We packed up as much as we could and stuffed two cars full and left. It's right on top of the hill, and the views are amazing. The rockslides are... wow. I saw a car utterly crushed by rocks. Bits of chimney strewn amongst them and I couldn't tell which house it had come from. Some streets are blocked off by spraypaint only, because I guess there aren't enough road cones to go around. Holes in the road are marked with wheely bins instead. Ferry Road is like the worst, lumpiest dirt road you have ever driven down. Seeing the lump that used to be Shag Rock is pretty unreal.
I came home and listened to The Ship Song, the first music I'd actually listened to since Tuesday, and had my first real cry. "We talk about it all night long / We define our moral ground / But when I crawl into your arms / Everything comes tumbling down." Then mum showed up at the door and we had hugs.
Here at the flat we're almost playing sleep tag. It seems like there's always someone awake. Like we're unconsciously doing sentry duty. It's just that sleep patterns are so screwed up. Leah's asleep at the moment and Lara's about to go, I might put a movie on and curl up on the mattress again.
Yes, I think it might be duvet, sandwhich and Stardust time.
We walked back to Ruby's house, over a fruit shop in Aro town, and collapsed into tired sweaty piles.
Sunday we had coffee at the most amazing coffee place down the road from her house. Delicious mochas made by an adorable boy with a mohawk. We got angry about the article condeming women that had C-sections as "too posh to push." Ugh.
Then we had breakfast at Sweet Mothers Kitchen. It was incredible. It was a hot morning and we managed to sneak in between breakfast and lunch rushes. Afterwards, we piked on doing city things and saw 127 Hours at the Embassy. I quite liked it, and was glad I watched it before the earthquake, because I wouldn't be able to deal with it now. The toilets there are fantastic, by the way, and we were caught taking photos.
That night was Jason Webley headlining at the San Fran Bath House and it was the most incredible show. We had fish and chips (and red bull!) in the park beforehand, and got there nice and early. I was paranoid about arriving on time but the locals (Ruby and Simon) were right that it would start ages after doors. I bought three cds from Jason himself and a print which is signed on the back with my name. Love it. And Jason in person is sweet and modest and lovely.
And when he plays live he's energetic and enthralling and !!! Ruby was surprised at how easily he got a Wellington crowd involved in the show. There was a massive tickle fight, and after the Drinking Song we were so very dizzy. He finished off with Music That Tears Itself Apart, and I was feeling the tingle magic in my fingers for hours afterwards, and healing people with it.
He opened with Captain, Where Are We Going Now? He did Icarus, and Map ("this is a love song, but if you dedicate it to anyone you'll probably get dumped"), In This Light, Against the Night, and he proffered Cath a pear in Dance While the Sky Crashes Down. Cath died amusingly. He played Last Song ("This is a song about the end of the world. It's the saddest song I've ever written, but at the same time it's the most optimistic") and Eleven Saints! (The audience was vocally sad after the line "if my cat looks sad it's because he knows he won't be going to heaven") And the version of Elephant Elephant he re-wrote for the Ignobal Prize award ceremony: Bacteria Bacteria. He did my favourite cover, In The Aeroplane Over The Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel, and maybe ten minutes of random 80s music - the audience yelled out songs, he worked them out on his accordian, and we all sang along. Sweet Dreams and Eye of the Tiger were particularly awesome. ("I think I will stop believing," he said, when a bunch of us at the front requested Journey.) At Amanda's show he did There's Not A Step We Can Take That Won't Bring Us Close, and divided us into violins and trombones (me and Cath were trombones).
I feel I've missed something, but he did say that he would come back to NZ, eventually. He was sorry he wasn't able to do a solo show in Christchurch. Then, when the earthquake hit, that's where he was, staying with Hera in New Brighton D:
It feels like a really long time ago. But it was only last weekend. Time is kind of screwed up. I fell asleep on the mattress in front of the TV about 7, was put into bed by the flatmates at 9:30 and slept till just after midnight. Now I'm awake again. We're watching Most Haunted. It's ridiculous. This man with Super Saiyan hair keeps getting possessed. Lol.
Yesterday I went for a walk and ended up walking an old woman called Rose to the rest home near West Spreydon, she was visiting people there. She'd been at a cooking class in town when the earthquake struck and had to walk home by herself. It took her two hours. We went into the dairy and I found her some mints because her eyes weren't dealing so well with the sudden change in light. She was lovely.
A lot of the houses around there smelled of sewage, though. I don't know if it was personal poo holes or seeping sewage, but, ugh. Smell baaad.
Going to Sumner was kind of horrific and unreal. On the way, Mum told me our optometrist, Paul Dunlop, had been killed. He was the nicest man with one of those lovely deep voices.
The house we went to was so munted. Walls ripped away. Stuff everywhere. We packed up as much as we could and stuffed two cars full and left. It's right on top of the hill, and the views are amazing. The rockslides are... wow. I saw a car utterly crushed by rocks. Bits of chimney strewn amongst them and I couldn't tell which house it had come from. Some streets are blocked off by spraypaint only, because I guess there aren't enough road cones to go around. Holes in the road are marked with wheely bins instead. Ferry Road is like the worst, lumpiest dirt road you have ever driven down. Seeing the lump that used to be Shag Rock is pretty unreal.
I came home and listened to The Ship Song, the first music I'd actually listened to since Tuesday, and had my first real cry. "We talk about it all night long / We define our moral ground / But when I crawl into your arms / Everything comes tumbling down." Then mum showed up at the door and we had hugs.
Here at the flat we're almost playing sleep tag. It seems like there's always someone awake. Like we're unconsciously doing sentry duty. It's just that sleep patterns are so screwed up. Leah's asleep at the moment and Lara's about to go, I might put a movie on and curl up on the mattress again.
Yes, I think it might be duvet, sandwhich and Stardust time.