Leben - Live

I’m alive! I’m still live-ing! Yeah, I’m aware it’s spelt ‘living’, but saw the wordplay opportunity and went for it, like a dingo stealing a baby or a mental woman (or man)…stealing a baby. But in fairness, more likely a woman. Guys don’t give enough of a shit about children to steal them. I certainly wouldn’t, even after watching Raising Arizona. If I had to, I’d nick a bar of Dairy Milk or a pack of Post-it notes. Both are surprisingly useful in a brainstorming situation. An infant’s screams and poos are not. Unless you’re working on ideas for baby monitors, nappies or reasons not to steal babies.

So, it’s the question on nobody’s lips: where’ve you been?! Well, after the colossal number of entries here in 2010 (two), a thirteen-month break to rest and recuperate was inevitable. While there’s a list longer than a midget’s walking stick of great and interesting things I‘ve done since, it’ll be more fun to point out the shit and ridiculous instead. For you anyway. For me it’s just digging up old, semi-repressed memories that’ll probably give me nightmares tonight. We don’t get Crimewatch in New Zealand, so it’s the next best thing. Speaking of things, the first stupid thing of 2010 was setting myself on fire in far north NZ in a place called Paihia. Distracted by the smugness of quipping that fat people flock to the town because there’s pie here, I didn’t spot the candle I was backing into. Calmly leaning into a friend’s ear and quietly uttering “I think I’m on fire,” is funny, but the memories of specially ironing that shirt just hours before left a lasting depression. The pills help.

Now, purely for the sake of mentioning it (and to nicely pad out this piece), one of Paihia’s leading tourist attractions is HOLE IN THE ROCK. You might be tempted to make a mock-assumption that it is literally just a rock with a hole in it. But you’d be completely right. Go on, Google image search it now. Buying stamps in the tourist office I joked “That there Hole in the Rock….it’s quite amazing that’s considered a big attraction,” - actually not even a joke, just a bit of a mean-spirited observation. The lady, completely obliviously to my scepticism, said something like “Ooooh yes, it’s wonderful. You know if you go under it on a boat and water drips on you, it’s good luck!” Now if it held some historical significance involving savage executions, the betrayal of Maori chiefs or being the location of New Zealand’s first Redbull Flugtag, its tourism credentials would be warranted. But no, it’s a hole in a rock that happens to be permeable enough for rainwater to seep through, bringing good fortune to gullible tourists. Nothing else.

Well as that meaningless rant fizzles out, so does my time for this entry. Apologies for the lack of additional ‘shit and ridiculous’ happenings I implied in the second paragraph, but I’ll attempt to shoehorn more into later pieces this year. If I write any.