15.
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NEW YEARS, AND ALL THAT WAS BEFORE AND AFTER…
I spend the next couple of days doing Fuck All, then decide it’s time to split and head over the hills to Welly to catch up with my other family, that of my friends.
That does Not include the weird whateverness that is the relationship between me and The Ex.
That’s in its own separate category all together. They are, however, my first port of call.
We hang, we eat, we watch movies, we drink… the usual.
So far, so good.
.
The next day is New Years Eve. I am getting texts from my friends asking what I’m up to, and none of them are impressed that I’m planning to spend the evening with The Ex.
As expected, I am also bombarded with texts, at 4.30 on New Years Eve, from my cousins asking where I am, what I’m up to, and that they might be coming over to Welly later. I am of the frame of mind that we’ve had weeks to discuss the matter, and they can come over if they want, but I ain’t strayin’ from my plans for them. I am already planning to have a perfectly selfish New Years and not let anyone else’s bullshit get me down. I’m going to do what I want, when I want, who I want to do it with.
If you happen to be there, then sweet. If you don’t wanna join me then step off, bitch.
I also hear that my bitchier cousin and her mates are coming over too, so I – in pretty much these words – inform my other cousins that they won’t be seeing me tonight if they’re with her. Fuck that shit. Like I said earlier, I’d be a Fool. Like they say, fifteen times bitten...
.
So, much to the chagrin of my besties, I head out to Petone with The Ex in the afternoon, armed with Vodka and Meat – the two staples of any Barbeque.
I have a great afternoon at Matt Hunt’s house, and me and Sheree discover that we both have a mutual dead friend from school.
This dead friend, Kate Brown, has been ever present in my thoughts since her death. She is the genesis for my soap opera, and her death is the starting point. Since I’ve been trying to pitch and re-write this series for the last year or so, she really has been present.
Kate Brown was the person I had known the longest in my life (until she died), and the very last time I talked to her we discussed the very first time we met… I am glad for that memory now.
ANYway…
.
Our posse of people moved on to another party in Petone, but after a while my conscience got the better of me. Especially when I was led to believe that all my besties were gathering in one place. Once I had that in my brain, I thought it best I leave. I ditched the Petone buzz, got on a bus – freshly armed with ciggies, a red bull concentrate to wake me up, and my trusty vodka – and headed to HJ’s apartment to surprise all my friends who don’t think I’m coming.
.
When I get there, I see that I’m almost the first to arrive. Typical.
I’m also the loudest, drunkest person there. Also typical.
It doesn’t help that the others are stoned off their tree.
I continue to be the mouth of the party until Tom Box arrives. I’m glad he’s here, but he won’t shut up about how dull the party is and that we should leave immediately. I spend half an hour trying to placate him.
It’s then that I – for about the fourth time in a row – start to give my mate Dan shit about his shit-for-brains brother… Long story, but it basically comes down to me – in all my drunken glory, and every time I’ve dealt the shit to him – forgetting that Dan stood up for HJ to his shit-for-brains brother. So, I proceed to deal it out to him, like I usually do, only this time Dan isn’t so forgiving.
He, in fact, kicks me out.
This suits Tom perfectly, but I am pretty much doomed to feel BAD about it for the rest of the night and a few days after. I totally deserved being kicked out and wish I had actioned my New Years Resolution (which, by the way, I NEVER make) that I had JUST BEEN TALKING ABOUT:
“I, The Mad Scorpion, vow to count to ten and try and think before I speak.”
Dang, where was THAT when I needed it…
SO… A happy Tom and a kicking-himself Scorpion head into town.
.
Ah, Wellington, I have spent so many New Years’s in you, I can’t even remember them all. All I know is you are usually the last place I feel like being, only this year, I’m up for you hard and proper, bitch.
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We head for Wautsi, which, thankfully, is somewhat off the beaten track and at the opposite end of Courtney Fucking Place, so only those who know of it and want to be there, are there.
We walk in and I am immediately displeased. The place is pretty empty, and hardly any of our friends are there. Acquaintances aplenty but… pretty lame. I head straight for the bar to dump my shit and get a drink.
The next few hours pass quickly. Bands, dancing, drinking, and it’s actually pretty fun.
.
Tom grabs me at ten to twelve so we can “go somewhere” for the twelve o’clock strike. Little do I know he plans to drag me to the most populated part of town – Civic Square. Even as we walk, most of the city is heading in our direction. I complain, but it means little to Tom, who is ferocious when he has a plan.
Luckily, and hilariously, Tom has to hand his bag over to get searched by security before we go in, and he declines because he has vodka in his bag. So instead, we go sit on the waterfront, pop a lolly, and I enter 2010 with – most appropriately – one of my best friends Mr. Tom Box, and I am glad I ditched my other crowd earlier.
.
We go back to Watusi where Tim has now appeared, and where I’ve also run into my old friend Rachel who I’m really stoked to see, and I continue to drink and dance until the bands are finished and the place is starting to empty and be boring.
All the while I’m being texted by The Ex – we’re here, we’re there, come here, go there – so as we bail into a taxi I inform the others that we have to stop off at their house.
When we get there, however, the house is open, and there isn’t a soul in sight. Turns out they’re all at Watusi now.
No matter. We go back to Tom’s, crank the music, pour the drinks, and dance til dawn.
.
It’s around 5.30am when we are going to bed that I get a phone call from The Ex. They’re home now, and the party is in full swing, so I grab the vodka and head on over – there’s no way I’M going to sleep anytime soon anyway.
I get there – it’s just round the corner thank god – and we sit in the back yard with the sun rising and talk talk talk our little heads off. At around 6 or so I get a text from my little brother Henry, asking where I am.
Henry isn't my blood brother, but I met him when he was twelve - about ten years ago - in a play where he was my little brother. From then on in, if anyone needed brothers in a play, we got cast. From there on in, Henry IS my little brother.
I barely ever see Henry so I call him and he wants to come to me, so I tell him to get in a taxi and I’ll pay for it. He shows up not long after and we proceed to spend the next three hours or so talk talk talking our little brains out.
So much so, in fact, that soon we are only ones left awake. Eventually he leaves, and I go back to Toms, and I crawl into bed around 9.30am. The room is so light, however, that I’m kidding myself if I think I’m going to sleep...
Besides, Tom is getting up now, and informs me that he’s going to go for his New Years Day swim. I decline, but when I hear the door shut I change my mind and race after him.
We head to the beach – which is pretty much deserted – and dive right on in.
The water wipes my tiredness, aches, and pains away, and I am fully refreshed and raring to go again. But I don’t. Instead, sensibly, Tim comes over and we watch movies instead and talk about our other friend with whom unrelenting dramas never seem to end. And no, that friend isn’t Me.
.
The next night, I decide to spend it with my friend Tara, who has gotten herself knocked up and decided to move back to Dunedin to surround herself with family… Selfish Bitch.
We spend the day and night and following morning doing what we do best – which normally would include wine, but seeing as she’s pregnant and I’ve been drinking for about a week straight, it’s probably not best – which is sitting around, watching the ultimate in Crap Reality TV on Sky, eating every couple of hours, and talk talk talking our little brains out.
I finally have an alcohol-free 24 hours and a decent nights’ sleep.
.
The next day, I’m starting to get antsy. I know it sounds rude, but I have been keeping in my sadness about Tara leaving, and I’m starting to lose my grip on it. I decide it’s best I leave before I start abusing her for leaving. Thankfully Tom and Kate show up, so I decide to get a ride home with them.
This, however, does not go to plan in the slightest.
We go to the dump shop. Seeing as I pretty much detest op-shopping, I stay in the car.
½ an hour later, they decide to drive to the basin and find something to eat. I’m not hungry (yet) so I’m not interested. It’s around this time that I start getting texts from HJ, who wants to talk about the other night. Uh oh, this can’t be good, so we try and organise somewhere sometime to meet, but as I have no idea what my driver is up to, it’s kinda difficult. We stop by the basin, but I haven’t heard back from HJ so I tell them to drive on. THEN I hear back from HJ but by this time we’re on our way back to Newtown. I tell her I’ll get hold of her once we Stop. As we’re about to drive back THROUGH Newtown, I ask to get out of the car, but Kate the driver informs me that we’re just going to drop off Tara back in Island Bay so I may as well stick with them until they come back. Ok, I sigh.
We get to Island Bay, where the rest of the gang decides they want fish and chips. I am starting to get hungry – this is, after all, about another ½ hour later – but not quite for grease, so again, I wait in the car and tell HJ to just call me.
She does, we talk, it’s fine, but I come away from the conversation feeling even less like being around people, and even more like it’s time for a drink.
After about another ½ hour the others finally return with their meals and yes, now I’m hungry. But I figure I’ll just get something when we get back to Newtown.
Ah, No.
We drive back to Tara’s house, and suddenly they turn OFF the car and start to get out. I see a DVD in a hand.
“Um, are you guys watching a movie here now?”
“Yeah!” they tell me, like I’m stupid. “Are you happy?” I am stupidly asked by Kate.
I decide now is a good time to implement my New Years Resolution, and resolutely keep my mouth shut.
“I’m going.” I tell Tara, who knows exactly what I am thinking.
“Why, where do you want to be?” I am stupidly asked by Kate.
“Um, about where I wanted to be ¾ of an hour back.” I answer. Obviously my resolution isn’t holding out so well.
I’m apologised to profusely, and asked why I don’t just chill out and stay and watch movies. The bombardment of questions cracks me.
“I JUST DON’T WANT TO BE HERE, ALRIGHT?” I answer to the best of my polite abilities.
This seems to be enough of an answer for them, and I am finally allowed to leave the house I tried to leave an hour earlier.
I am sad to say goodbye to Tara, and quite frankly, suck at it. But I’m glad to be walking away, even if I am crying down the street as I do it.
I get the bus, I get my shit from Toms, and I head straight for my drinking buddies house. Slash, The Ex. This, in retrospect, was the point where things started to go wrong.
What. A. Surprise.
We eat, we drink, we watch movies. Actually, THEY watch movies. They’re movies I’ve already seen before like, a million times - Alien, anyone??? - , so I sit outside in the cabana and watch the wind and rain piss down and listen to Heavy Metal Greats on tape. It’s actually quite fun, though my feet get wet.
When they’re done with the first movie, they watch ANOTHER movie I’ve seen, so I give up and go into the bedroom to watch TV, and eventually go to bed.
The next day I still have half a box of wine left, so I do what any self-respecting binge drinker would do and start drinkin’ it. It’s a lovely day, there’s not a cloud in the sky, and I pull my computer out into the cabana and start playing my music and dancing in the sun. It’s about 9am.
I have a rather large conversation with Francis about theatre and my spine – unrelated conversations FYI.
I run out of wine, and we get beers. We run out of those beers, so we get more. My friend Brendan shows up around 6pm, and we go for a walk, talk about our various problems, then return to the party.
…..and it’s around Here that my memory starts to get hazy. All I know is two things:
1. I haven’t eaten today, and
2. At some point, someone offers me half a something. I have no idea what it is, and stupidly take it anyway.
From here on in, my brain is pulp. I swim in and out of consciousness, but do not realise this.
When I start to “come to”, it is long dark, everyone around me is FUCKED on whiskey, and people are telling me to fuck off, or go to bed, and I have no idea why they’re being so rude to me, or why they’re telling me to go to bed because I am WIDE awake.
I pretty much sit there quietly, dance when I feel like it, and mind my own business, but there are still jibes and remarks being directed toward me and I’m getting a little fed up with it, especially as, in my opinion, I am just having fun and minding my own business. In my long drunken state I can still see that the Whiskey is starting to turn everyone around me. The Ex is sticking in Fat and Obsessed jibes whenever he can, but I am not quick enough to pull him up for it, and he’s already changed the subject before I can speak, so I’m left wondering. Eventually I realise… I am not the one who is too fucked for partying, but rather the party around me has become Fucked. Everyone is starting to get Whiskey Mean. Had I actually taken this fact in good and proper, I would have ignored them. But because I’m in a state and trying to figure out what I’VE done to piss everyone off, the clash of the minds continues to be so.
I decide to shut everyone out and just dance. Here is my remedy.
At some point I hear Larry ask “why doesn’t Nathan just fuck off?” and I can’t believe it. I’m in earshot and everything, so I just confront her.
“Are you serious?? I’m just sitting here, what have I done!”
Dave sticks up for me and Larry shuts up, and I can’t quite hear what’s going on over the music, but I’m done being the butt of Whiskey Mean, so I go outside to the cabana with the neighbor Emily.
Emily validates my thinking, and asks why I am taking such a thrashing from everyone, and can’t believe how rude everyone is being to me. I am Grateful that, yet again, I am not just being paranoid and, in fact, people ARE just Arseholes.
And then, she asks the questions that hit home:
“What is going on between you and The Ex?”
“Nothing! We’re just mates!” I say.
“Bullshit.” Comes her reply. Guess I ain’t pullin the wool over anyone’s eyes.
And it’s here that she points out to me, like countless others before her, that I am too good, that I am pouring so much energy into someone I will never get it back from, that they aren’t worth it, that I can do better, bla bla bla.
Only this time, in my deepest drunkest state, it actually strikes a chord.
And right then and there, at 2 something in the morning, I decide I can’t stay here a second longer, and I go inside, pack my bags, and Walk.
I am stopped by Emily, and Dave, who try to talk me out of leaving, but there is no changing my mind. I have my mind set on getting to the train station, and getting Home. NOW.
And so, I walk. With a 30kg+ backpack and a deadest attitude on, I start the long trek from Newtown to the train station in the dead of the night.
I don’t see a single car or person. I am alone in the city at night.
I am clear headed and determined.
And get more and more irate with each step.
My sarcastic apology texts to The Ex have turned into abusive tirades by the time I reach the train station about an hour and a half later.
I bum a cigarette from the taxi driver, who offers to take me to Carterton. I ask him if he’ll do it for 14 bucks – the train fare – and he pretty much laughs at me. I don’t mind. I am here at least, and almost home.
It’s still dark, around 4.30am, so I find a bench, sit back, park up, and Wait.
The train isn’t until 8.25, and it seems like forever but finally, it is.
I get on the train. The train is not leaving. I am getting more and more frustrated by the minute. I have, after all, been waiting for 4 hours.
It isn’t until 9 the train FINALLY decides to go, and by then I am ready to yell at something. BUT, I have kept my New Years mantra flowing in my brain, and as soon as the train starts to move, I feel better.
The Ex starts to text – they’re obviously awake now – and I proceed to, resolution out the window, slam them with abuse about the bullshit I had to endure last night. They reply with their usual – that I don’t know what I’m talking about, that they are right, and that I am wrong – so I cut the argument short and give up.
It isn’t until that night, when I’ve had a feed and a decent sleep, that I see I may have been wrong about some things, and offer up an apology. My bad habit of drinking and texting – a habit I fall right back into around The Ex, of which I’m aware and am SEVERELY trying to break – needs apologising for, at the least. Things have, after all, gone pretty well up until we were both blind drunk.
However, I have not forgotten, nor do I intend to forget, what has been done to me. Like they say, fifty times bitten…
…
And so, it is 2010. Before I know it, I am back at work again. I am surprisingly looking forward to it. I need the distraction desperately. I have not liked being at Home since I got back. I see now, more than ever, that I am severely lacking in company here. I have 3 or 4 cousins that I might hang out with, and 2 friends. 2.
For a party animal like me, this is no longer enough. I have gotten by for a year like this, but now…
Home just looks different. The whole reason I came here is long since up in smoke, but the thought of moving back to the city, where high rents and bad flatmates are the norm, and where I will undoubtedly fall back into my Must-Hang-With-The-Ex-Everyday habit, and where ALL my friends are paired off in Oh-So-Grown-Up-Relationships, makes me cringe.
Coming down from a two-week-long drinking binge, and living in a house that hasn’t been cleaned since before Christmas, isn’t helping either.
…
After a couple of days, when I have slept, eaten good food, and generally feel a lot better inside, I finally force myself to clean. This doesn’t take long as it’s mostly surface shit, and eventually makes me feel slightly better about life in the small smoke.
But not enough.
This is the year of drastic change. If not outwardly, then definitely inwardly.
I must write like I have never written before.
I must feed the friendships I wish to keep before they fade into the sunset like so many before.
I must learn to love myself – loneliness, crooked spine, constant pain, big bitchy mouth, big whanau, and all.
I must make my life happen, because White Horses have never existed…
.
Here’s to 2010.
May It Be Bitchin’.
…
Oh, and if anyone I know dies this year,
I’ll kill them.
…
