shitona stick
Cousin Kim in Auckland
24/09/1999
This has been my first opportunity back in the cyber cafe after three days of madness. Where to begin. I think when I left off I had just arrived in Auckland. So much has happened since then I will try and do my best to recount it all accurately, and I can be fairly certain that the secret service people have put something in my drink, (besides the much welcomed rufinol) to make me forget all the sordid events I have seen. Arriving at the hotel, we checked into our shoeboxes to drop off our luggage and head to our first meeting. After such a relaxed and comfortable plane ride, I was in such high spirits and was making quite a lovely first impression on everyone I was meeting.
Walking down the street was like a film. Every manhole was sealed with a government sticker to indicate it had been checked for security, as well as every gutter and street grill. The small city of Auckland was preparing for the LARGE presence of Bubba, the leader of the free world, and the Kiwis would not be responsible for any wrongdoing.
With the war in East Timor, protesters flocked to Auckland to shout their beliefs in the faces of world leaders who are gathered here for an economic conference. It seemed as if everyone had some type of axe to grind with one political leader or another, and they were out in full force. My favorite was the New Zealand witches. They weren't really sure what they were against, but they knew there was something in APEC that they disapproved of, so every flat tire, every untied shoelace, every banana peel, the witches claimed responsibility for. Like the PLO, they were proud to shout, "It was I who caused the microphone not to work for 35 seconds FEEL MY POWER!" The streets were barricaded in the typical American "we are more important than you stand aside don't attempt to walk down this street don't even attempt to look at us with the naked eye close all your businesses leave open a McDonalds" type attitude that follows any American president in any country he blesses.
The kiwis were both grateful for the world economic conference, and angry about all the obscene pageantry that accompanied it. So John and I readied the studio in the basement of TVNZ for 3 days of interviews between students, world leaders, and CEO's. The set was a shade of blue that I had seen once on my lower lip looking in the mirror after being stuck on a chairlift on Ajax mountain in Aspen Colorado for 45 minutes in a white out with no chapstick and a pewter flask filled with cold whiskey. A blue, highlighted with a bit of frostbite white around the edges. The barren floor complimented the equally pathetic signs that were made for the backdrop of the set. But actually, all seemed to look good through the lens of the magical camera. This made me feel a lot better about myself in a way, think about some of those beautiful actresses not filtered through a lens? Frostbite blue baby! The camera men were more then great, and after meeting one of them, John and I listened to him talk without interrupting, shook our heads in agreement with everything he said no matter what it was, a blank stare on both our faces, and when he walked away after a nice "Right then" John and I looked at each other and whispered "Tom Petty!" I have never seen a more striking resemblance. Now, meeting with Secretary Daley's staff had to have been one of the most bizarro experiences I have had with political employees. Heading up to their heavily secured suite in the Heritage hotel, we were whisked into a private pressroom to go over details of Daley's interview and so on. His staff was a riot, although I don't think they realize it yet. I walked into the room to find the Men in Black standing in each corner trying to look inconspicuous, how often have you heard that about those guys with the squiggly worms coming out of their ears?
We introduce ourselves and sit at a round table for the first meeting stare down. This is where a met Morrie. Ah, Morrie. In his sixties, Morrie has retained the 1970's spin-doctor alcoholic attitude that was so loved during the Nixon administration (I've read Hunter Thompson) and has no qualms about his politically incorrect behavior. During the meeting he mentioned, all in one meeting mind you, nudie bars, loosing a few hours out of his evening due to a alcohol induced blackout, maximum security for Secretary Daley on his route to the television station, his lucrative career in journalism prior to his position of chief of staff for Secretary Daley, black tar heroin, the economic pressure the US must put on Indonesia to stop the slaughter in east Timor, and his new and ever so fluffy and soft woolen shirt. Needless to say, Morrie became my friend. . . The last day of shooting John left the studio and allowed me to take over in directing and producing. I did not feel 100% confident at this job and there were some important people coming in for interviews, but I was lucky to have the coolest camera men and lighting guys so I felt better. These were the most laid back relaxed guys I had met yet in NZ(remember Tom Petty) Well even they could no longer take the Nelly Olsen attitude of many of these supposed geniuses.
If we had been in the US I am sure that we would have been sued for something as we had to put a few of them in their places. The rabid squirrel jumped from my face, onto the face of the camera men, all of them, and what once were snotty sarcastic teenagers, clamped shut quicker and tighter then a South Beach door on a Sunday morning in the face of a Jehovah's witness. After all three of us, simultaneously, told them to shut up and sit their snotty asses down. I would take no more of their persecution of the Maori students !!!! We shall overcome I tell you !!
So the filming went great, despite the fact that my old friend Morrie from Daley's office kept poking me with a pen during the filming of Daley's interview trying to get me to laugh off camera. It was such a cute, old man way of flirting, which I was thinking used to be so cute and harmless until Pfizer decided they were going to allow those men to be able to FOLLOW THROUGH ! with their attempts. The shooting wrapped up great and John and I spent the last day in NZ in the edit room doing a tape for Daley. It was almost typhoon like whether, and I kept having to go and run errands. Clinton was still in town and security was so tight he had a helicopter following him every where he went. Well, he must have been close by to us, because after a few hours I started to feel like Ray Liota at the end of Goodfella's as it was hovering over me all day (maybe Morrie was in it?) So we left the edit room after midnight looking for a restaurant as we had eaten nothing really all day. What we had eaten was rather odd.
The New Zealanders have the oddest combination of food tastes I have ever had. Apple, creamcheese and bacon sandwich on rye, cucumber, tomato paste, potatoe and salmon on wheat. So you can tell I was not stuffing my face that day. Finding no open restaurant, we settled for a jazz bar with naugahide booths with red velvet brassed pinned cushions, pictures of Etta and Miles on the walls, a few good Bloody Marys, a banana and a psychotic Australian who fancied himself Gaby Hoffman. So now, my friends, I am in Saigon. Ho Chi Minh now. I arrived yesterday and have been overwhelmed with all I have seen. I think I am being disconnected. Will write later. Kisses.
part 2
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