Grandmaster Flash – a.k.a. “Timmy G”, “The Tim-Meister” and “The Obnoxious One” (if only by myself), this is me, your author and gracious host. While certainly not the instigator of this adventure, I was recruited at short notice when “three” was deemed a suitable number for the Mangawhai leg of the trip. Feared outlaw and compassionate co-host in one, I now seek to bring you the highlights of our adventure, with special limited-edition “Drunken entry scrawled on the back of a Yahtzee scorecard” (currently misplaced) that just didn’t make it onto the page.

Scoobus – a.k.a. Sanjay, Sunj, Scrabjay and Munjay, he ate all the pies. Isn’t this picture just super? He was our gracious host for the first 2 nights of the 4 night marathon. Chronically ill and falling apart at the seams, his hardened demeanour and ragged appearance place him in the league of the “Filthy Few”, and as an official partner in petty crime, aimed at causing costly damage to councils outside of Auckland and hollow self-gratification to himself few dare challenge his beloved practise of cold pie consumption. Be careful – this boy’s got wind.

Mattchu – a.k.a. Mattelgar, Metal Gear and Mattster, the official driver for the first leg of the trip and sworn non-driver for the second. A sensitive soul for sure, obnoxious strangers drive him over the edge. Pioneering the tequila experiment should have had sexy results, yet something went horribly wrong for this boy. Too cool for crime, his clean-cut appearance hides his deep and deluding fears which appear only in his dreams. Perhaps the phrase “fear of flying” would be appropriate here.

The Others – There were some rather inconsequential gentlemen that joined us at my bach on Friday afternoon. They had names and identities that have been lost in the sands of time, surviving only in arcane tomes in the depths of hidden tombs. Either that, or I’m just not trying anymore.

The Locale:

Beautiful Mangawhai – This is the view from upstairs in the unit we stayed at… obviously, the ship isn’t a permanent fixture, but it’s a fucking eyesore given how picturesque the entire place is. What you see is a huge vessel “dredging” out the estuary, which basically involves chewing up a “fuck-load” of water, sand and sealife. Ever-present were birds which swooped around the water pipe grabbing fish before they could be buried by sand on the vessel. While the unit itself was literally on the front of this estuary, sprawling sand dunes erupted in all directions, and a surf beach was no more than five minutes away…

“Surf Beach” – Is all it shall be known as. It really is fitting, given that it had a fair share of nice surf. Unfortunately, given its generally eerie, miserable nature, I decided against swimming here. The sea spray in the distance and the thick cloud covering gave it an ominous and disturbing sense of foreboding. Beautiful, but undoubtedly deadly. If the waves left anything to be desired, the dunes certainly did not. Towering, soft, steep ramps of sand flanked the coastline and proved ideal for rolling down (although this did leave one a little “shaken”). Despite considerable mythos formed regarding the existence of a place where people “hooked up” and “urinated”, there was by no means a profusion of people indulging in such activities. Still, its absolute desolateness provided a nice contrast to the bustling community minutes away.

The Happs:

Can we talk tail-lights and chip packets for a while? Well we drove up on December 11 after quite some deliberation and made a bee-line for the faux leather seats. After significant Summer Ale/Lion Red consumption in the halls of Sanjay’s bach had occurred, we continued to where the “party was at”, a windy little hill at the end of a long clay drive way. 40 St Cuths girls or not, this place was splattered with tents, and the one communal table it did offer was littered with empty Lion Red cans and other similarly cheap n’ nasty beer… a telling sign and by all means a warning of what would ensue. Casting caution to the wind, we socialised to an extent, and with 5 shots of tequila (consumed in 5 minutes) and several beers under our belts, we were in no mood to “take shit”. Of course, it would be nice to think this somehow justified a broken tail light and a very snooty biznatch covered in salt and vinegar chips, but I think to some degree we were also past caring… social grace had given way to obnoxiousnessand the shameful state of most people in terms of drunkenness (no, not us!) has become evident.

What happened next now escapes me. The rest of the time at Mangawhai was highly enjoyable, and certainly a little less obnoxious. New and exciting combinations of alcohol and salvia were discovered and Steve was searched for. Of course, this is what I get for leaving a so-called “photo journal” so long after the event when details are forgotten and erode away, to place pictures and visual memory in the position of narrator. Of course, the entire escapade could probably best be summarised by one rather pathetic imitation of a goose…

Mad props to Sanjay for use of the bach, as photos trickle in from the resulting holiday experiences they’ll be posted for general consumption. Happy holidays and all that…

11 December

Losing my touch...

ineptitititit

Things are really looking up? You know, aside from falling out with friends, and paranoid schitzophrenics leaving threats to my family on my answerphone. I guess essentially differences with my father have been settled (though there is still horribly rough ground there) and listening to a message on my answering machine threatening my family makes me feel fiercely protective of them... that's love? If anyone wants to hear the full story of the said answerphone message, I'll happily oblige, but out of respect for the parties involved won't go into it here...

I guess the lack of happenings/social contact these holidays has so far taken its toll... so close to Christmas and I'm finding it difficult to arouse that "festive feeling" I feel so wildly around now... perhaps its the absence of "The Wall" that does it to me... maybe its the weather... maybe its just the fact that the Internet is a lonely, lonely place when I'm not in your arms, dear diary. However, as I say, considering I'm off tomorrow for an extended period of time things are looking up! To Sanjay's bach I shall go, the illustrious "Mangawai" [sic] awaits us! I would be totally lying if I said the prospect of 40 St Cuths girls camping there at the same time didn't intimidate me somewhat (okay, a fucking lot since it includes the "group" of my ball partner, even if not her directly). A definite sense of excitement (who wouldn't be?) even if it is tarnished by anxiety... especially regarding the issue of the meningitis and a certain blonde beauty.

Yeah.

These are nervous times,and contrain us to beguile them with proceedings which at first may seem reasonable until they become habit. The old computer-sleep-computer-sleep cycle is ready for a wee break. Wazza McFazza is on the way (but can it really live up to the legacy of Ajax?) and I have Elton John - Sacrifice on my computer (ahh nostalgia). My University marks are back and looking fine, though all of a sudden I'm faced with the prospect of actually being able to do Stage II law... scary. I have a mixture of emotion and no direction, a healthy combination! A good deal of alcohol over Christmas should send me on the straight and narrow. Furthermore I have Coromandel photos with which to complete a "photojournal" once I have them scanned... you will notice the blasphemous birthday pics have been fixed entirely and the page is generally a little more tidy... boy I feel good. Rumination of the Moment™:

3 December

Mysterious Birthday Memorial

"roofless"

It really is the time and place for a birthday entry! The event, on an uncertain day, where my birth to uncertain parents (okay, maybe not) was celebrated… what a trip! Shrouded in mystery, this travesty has remained taboo… until now. In this early morning entry I pull out all the stops to bring the party home to you!

Mayhaps this entry shall make it flagrantly obvious to you why I detest birthdays so...

So, the big eighteen eh? No, I wasn’t downtown purchasing cigarettes, porn and alcohol… alright, maybe alcohol. I began by listening to the message left on an historic fridge magnet which had traditionally been used to record 10 second sound clips… more specifically birthday music… last year it had been Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb”, and this year, 365 days on, the clip hadn’t even been written over… an ominous sign? I guess fate was to play a big role that day… it was a Second Semester Drinking Horn after all, which may hereby be known as Scrab Jays “big moment”. No, I wasn’t down there on the podium, drinking naked and putting the other contenders to shame… I was in Shadows, drinking jug after jug to arrive in a state where I could obnoxiously push my way to the front of a crowd at the drinking horn to point at my favoured contestant and shout loudly, "Come on East Asia! You can do it, woman!" - a shameful display by all accounts, but 3 jugs later I was "in the zone".

Next came the Horse and Trap – your eighteenth birthday with your family at a bar frequented by middle-aged men, excellent! More high alcohol beverages followed, and I was feeling more than slightly toasted by the time I was driven home. I was none too happy to be confronted by this…

Can I really be blamed? That is terrifying right? Terrifyingly delicious! Which set the mood for debauchery to follow… okay, maybe not debauchery, but certainly a bit of this:

For this, I make no excuses.

I guess alcohol was really getting the better of me… it’s one of those moments where I’d define myself as “hideously depressed”, and it wasn’t just because I’d had such a “bumper crop” of presents either. [exasperated sigh] I think it’s fair to say a good deal of reflection occurs on one’s eighteenth birthday, almost enough to make me stand-up here right now and make a speech about it… but I am so “over” that! [cues Pink Floyd – Time]

I was more than a little cynical by the end of it all; apart from the cocktail umbrellas and the funny little men I was gripped by the realisation that I had, in fact, received absolutely nothing for my birthday. I even had to pay for my own beer at Shadows… the people I really wanted to talk to were nowhere around me… I guess, what I’m trying to say can best be expressed in my Rumination of the Moment:”And nothing can be done…” And you thought I was going to say something original! %%ENTRIES_HERE%%