In a second I'm going to talk discursively about my New Year's Eve/Day couplet and I'm worried it's going to be BORING.
I get paranoid about being boring. Often I can hear myself being boring. Sometimes I react and lamend, other times I plough through the feeling and insist on being boring. But I figure the self-knowledge of being boring is the important thing- an unfamiliar feeling to anyone who dropped a New Year's pinger. Having being stuck in conversation with many who had, and hearing comprehensive reports of an unusually flat Pnau show in Newcastle, I'm pretty sure the latest batch were cut with Boring.
There are so many variables in determining why someone might take pills, acid, K or coke, (access, personality, financial status, dress sense etc...) but it's funny to think that the chemical makeup of the drug itself is yet another factor in grouping certain people together on a given night. Taking a bit of everything is the only way to ensure that everyone likes you (one of my most abiding preoccupations!)
Predictably, I'm interested in the ethnic makeup of various drug users. I undertook several years of empirical research at a Jewish high school, and I would say that my people seem to steer clear of everything but pot and cocaine. The Vietnamese have been known to traffic heroin, but does anyone know what they snort/smoke/swallow to bring in the New Year?
Hoping to find a handy pie chart or venn diagram I tapped in a few words in to Google, but the results proved both inconclusive and disappointingly lacking in outrageous stereotypes. I did find these though?:
[Edit: several wordy and indulgent (though impossibly hilarious!) paragraphs about the evenings festivities at Goodgod have been removed in aid of gettingtothepoint]
After a pleasantly delicate struggle between my companions about what course of action would best suit our various moods, I arrived back from Levins' at around OMGIMSOCRAZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZY:00 AM.
I was staying at Nina's and we had arranged that I would ring her when I arrived and she would let me in. But when I got there I just wasn't tired, it was so weird!1
It seemed cruel to wake her when she had such an outrageously hectic day of achieving ahead. So filled with an inflated perception of the beauty and limitless possibilities of '09, I went for a lope around Newtown. I ducked in to the petrol station on Enmore Road to buy a Moleskine 'The Legendary Notebook of Hemingway, Picasso, and Chatwin' but left with a refreshing and delicious lemon Calippo.
It was the perfect counterpoint to the increasingly asphyxiating black velvet dress I was wearing- my third costume change for the night. I could barely remember what it was like to have felt both scultped and svelte when I had first tried on Sisterhood of the Travelling Dress but a few hours before.
I began to feel simultaneously tired and proud. The idea of being inside Nina's house had become a more alluring concept, but since I'd waited this long (about 15 minutes by this stage) it wouldn't be fair to deprive her of another 3 hours sleep. After two abortive attempts to break in to her property, the next obvious course of action was to put my crap on someone's car and take artistic photos of my situation.
Since I was in Newtown, I also prayed to some Tibetian Buddhist flags that Nina would magically awake or that Jane Gazzo would appear and invite me to crash on her couch. Part of my prayer was answered but the unhospitable bitch didn't say a word!
This sox, I thought. 2009 sox.
But then! a kindly old Tongan who didn't have heaps of English or teeth invited me to sit in his front yard with his family. I love sitting as much as the next person and I sat at the opportunity.
Tonga is longitudially is one of first places to celebrate New Year's Eve, and going by the fairly copious amounts of alcohol perched on our table (no drugs though, unhelpful for my research), this family was also one of the last.
After directing what I believe will be one of the defining works in the burgeoning genre of Tongasploitation films:
New Year's Day from movestill on Vimeo.
the thought suddenly occured that it was time for me to exit this scenario. I farwelled my new friends, broke in to Nina's garage, rifled through a dusty giveaways bag for my fourth outfit change (a comforting blue muu-muu), sat down in my makeshift office and started to blog on a scrap of moldy cardboard box.
Happy 2k9 babes.