My eyes have grown blurry.

My stomach churns with indecision, and spicy Indian. Ugh. Here’s a bullet point summary of how I spent the last three relatively unproductive days:

occasional laughter
good company
terrible food choices
East Brunswick All Girls Choir
painfully awkward interviews
gleefully challenging cats
whiskey
brief hang times with Christchurch friends
Broken Social Scene
Drunken smiles
Buzzfeed
HANGOVERS THAT SHRED YOUR LIFEFORCE
Cohen brothers take on Noir
Apathy
Internets
Worrying
Just being friends
Spending money and forgetting the results
Kronic
The pitter-patter of rain on the roof
Mi Goreng
Sleeping in.

See, not much happened really. Goodbye weekend. Hello working week.

"Harmlessly passing your time in the grassland away;
Only dimly aware of a certain unease in the air.
You’d better watch out!
There may be dogs about
I looked over Jordan, and I’ve seen
Things are not what they seem.

That’s what you get for pretending the danger’s not real.
Meek and obedient you follow the leader
Down well trodden corridors into the valley of steel.
What a surprise!
A look of terminal shock in your eyes.
Now things are really what they seem.
No, this is not a bad dream.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want
He makes me down to die
Through pastures green He leadeth me the silent waters by.
With bright knives He releaseth my soul.
He maketh me to hang on hooks in high places.
He converteth me to lamb cutlets,
For lo, He hath great power, and great hunger.
When cometh the day we lowly ones,
Through quiet reflection, and great dedication
Master the art of Karate,
Lo, we shall rise up,
And then we’ll make the bugger’s eyes water.

Bleating and babbling we fell on his neck with a scream.
Wave upon wave of demented avengers
March cheerfully out of obscurity into the dream.

Have you heard the news?
The dogs are dead!
You better stay home
And do as you’re told.
Get out of the road if you want to grow old".

—	Pink Floyd - Sheep

The perfect distraction for an overcast Saturday in the capital.

First weekend in Wellington.

My initiation into the Wellington weekend life came in the form of Summerset 2011, a music festival featuring Dizzee Rascal, and a whole bunch of DJs I’ve never heard of. Phantom provided me with a free ticket, saving me like $80, so I was well keen to check it out. The tab took hold of my brain and I was transported at light-speed into the farthest reach of the solar system. Despite my lack of brain capacity, I did manage to make notes of the days highlights. Brace yourself.

Fluro chainsaws ravage my mind, as Lipton Ice Tea is thrust into my consciousness. A giant on stilts cracks whips with unnecessary conviction, while I avoid the ultra silent violent disco. I never learned how to wolf whistle because I was too busy laughing. Tab for lunch, goodbye rest of the weekend. The grass is in fact unicorn velvet and I’m knees deep. Dance architecture is explained in detail, while we watch the neon inferno. Colours swoop, and vibrations ripple constantly. Screaming “what” in everyones nostrils seems like a grand idea. Instead we staunch it out on a hill while my fingers squirm like desperate snakes. A reference within a reference, referencing yourself to death in a sea of reference.

My adventures lasted until 9am, when sleep finally took hold of me and carried me through to Monday. I may have missed Sunday out altogether, but Saturday sure made up for that technicality.

Lately I’ve felt pangs of guilt about leaving Christchurch while the city is on its knees, and my friends in a cloud of misery. I feel selfish, but I guess sometimes you have to do what you have to do (sometimes cliches provide the easiest route to explaining yrself).

This image kinda sums up how I feel about everyone staying strong and living through the daily grind of quakecity. I may have left for now, but I’m an overpriced plane ticket away. Also, with the level of internet addiction amongst everyone I know, it will be like I never left.

Wellington Ahoy!

Goodbye Christchurch. You were good. Until you rumbled and yr buildings collapsed. And my job was basically gone. So now I’m doing the phantom thing in Wellington and crashing on my friends couch until I find a flat I can afford. I miss everyone desperately, but this is an adventure I’m committed to seeing through.

Internal Dialogue.

I’m a car crash of indecision in the midst of an empty shell of a city. Should I stay or should I go? There is a healthy argument for both sides. At least I have a few days before D-Day.

This week has been a constant weary trudge through filth. Shoveling is counted in hours and i fucking hate wet boxes. At least I’ve had the company of some fine comrades, but there is only so much we can bare before our minds are lost to the overwhelming tiredness. A grim march through despair as the clock ticks away.

All the time I’m weighing up my options, scared of failure. But I guess, in the end, I always knew my decision. Its just casting aside apathy and doing it that will be the hardest part. Drifting towards sleep while listening to ‘The King of Limbs’ is a gentle reminder that not all is lost. Goodnight and good luck.