On yer bike: PMT, PCS & SOS

It's two-for-the-price-of-one time... two (or maybe more) different topics being squished into one post thanks to the general chaos & busyness that is life in Shakeytown. Well, my life anyway - I can't claim to speak on anyone else's behalf.

But no matter how much is going on, it's important that we remember to make time to stop and smell the roses. Even here in the land of the empty lot, there are events taking place that are worth making an effort to get to. One such gig was the recent Cycle Powered Cinema, another Gapfiller project making use of empty space to fill up our empty time.

Clowning around

I nearly didn't go to the protest on February 1st at the CCC. By the time protest-day was drawing near, Mr M had sort-of handed back his payrise and the government had announced a glorified babysitter would be sitting at the council table in an effort to make everyone get along. Whether this appointment has any legal standing or not is debatable, but then again, what point is there in quibbling over details when it could probably be quickly & easily written into the CERA legislation somewhere. Who knows what's already covered in there... some of the councillors don't seem to have a clue.

The little gig that could

I called in to see hubby at C4 last Wednesday...

"See that woman sitting with the laptop down the back?"
I nodded.
"That's Amanda Palmer, lead singer for the Dresden Dolls. She's got tattoed eyebrows, likes strong coffee, and..." He leaned over the counter with a glint in his eye and a huge grin on his face.
"...she's married to Neil Gaiman."

Now that was indeed cool. My inner book geek squeed with delight, while my outer self retained (I hope) its calm facade. I'd heard of the Dresden Dolls, and had read that Amanda Palmer was doing a gig for the Occupy Christchurch camp while in town, but Neil Gaiman needed no introduction, he's someone whose work we've both enjoyed many times over.

I thought nothing more of it until I got home from uni, when hubby announced that he'd got chatting with Ms Palmer later on that afternoon, and she'd put his name on the door for the gig that night.

Your 15 minutes starts now

To those of you who have just joined us, welcome aboard and thanks for flying Shakeytown Airways. Please buckle up, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

If you've boarded this flight thinking it's going to be non-stop hilarity, you may wish to leave the aircraft before takeoff. Those of you who are frequent flyers will know that the movie selection on board tends to be a little moody, going up and down with the movements of the planet, the local council and anything else that is encountered along the way. Sure, there's some funny stuff scattered among the angst but it's humour that stems from frustration and bewilderment, and there really is much more of the latter.

Contrary to what you may have been lead to believe by the Press article, this is not a satirical blog. Some days it's just easier for my seismically-charged synapses to approach a serious issue from a sideways angle, to write in verse, to twist words into new shapes, to take an absurd situation and make it even more so. We are never short of ideas and role models round these parts - there are plenty of absurdities, and satirical responses to them. Joe Bennett has a lovely running gag involving a cross-dressing Bulgarian hitman named Angela, who has become quite the star in high heels and combat gear, fighting the council-imposed eviction notice.

Storytime in Shakeytown

Gather round and get yourselves comfortable, cos it's time for a little fairy story*. This one comes from a mystical town that may seem familiar - the Land of Containers, Hardhats, Cracks & Hazards... or Chch for short.

The boss council worker - let's call him Mr Moustache - had only just come back from holiday and already things were going horribly wrong. He went to see the big cheese, his dear friend and close adviser, Smiley Bob, to see if he could help cheer him up.

What Mr Moustache & Smiley Bob might look like...

Image: The Press

"Smiley Bob," he said, "it seems no matter what I do, the people no longer like me. I've tried to be reasonable, to defend my actions and to explain how much it hurt to be absent while the city was bouncing like a trampoline. Look!" he cried, pointing to his right knee. "I was at the beach when I heard the news and, because I got momentarily distracted, I forgot to put sunscreen on this whole leg! I thought the newspaper would use a stock photo for the article, not snap me in my shorts & t-shirt on my first day back. My suit trousers rub on the sunburn, it's not my fault!" And with that he sat down on the couch, staring sadly at his one pink leg and the five pink toes peeking out of his jandals.

Merry Xmas Mr M.

T’was just before Xmas and all through the city

Road cones wore tinsel and tried to look pretty.

Behind closed doors, away from prying eyes

The councillors voted on the CEO’s pay rise.

‘Market forces’ they cried, and then, ‘Competition’

Although surely they knew it was a poor rendition.

Cloistered, conceited, and out of touch with reality

Perhaps they need reminding of basic morality.

At a time when our city’s been brought to its knees

The mayor and his cronies just do as they please.

When the CEO’s salary is brought into the light

It tells a sad tale in times that are tight.

Familiar faces, new places & tiny spaces

It was a good weekend :)
Saturday night we went out to see some of our favourite Loony performers putting on three One Act plays in A Night of Theatre.

L-R: David Ladderman, Sophie Ewert, Tom Trevella

They might have been familiar faces but in order to see them, we had to go somewhere new. That's one thing about the earthquakes and their effects on various buildings - we've been to some interesting places in order to watch all kinds of performers and performances. This time we were headed to the Old Boys' Theatre at Christ's College, which seems to have withstood the quakes rather well.