I sat typing on my screen, Knowing that they would read my anguished cries. Those wise greyhairs and ageing Gen Xers.
Searching for the key to gentrifying my mana. Taking what was once scary, and making it palatable: as if cultural diversity is a Valentines buffet. Them, those humourless, boring, risk-averse fools. Slackers become bureaucrats and their odious children. They wouldn't know a good idea If it ran them down In the street. Yet, sitting there, typing in my robe. Their odious, judgmental stares felt burned into my subconscious. Them, those humourless, boring, risk-averse fools.
Those
manipulative,
selfish,
tiresome,
tools.
Those
two-faced, infuriating, Moore-Wilson's shoppers. Guided by
their gold and by their stupid rules.
Behind their verdant shield Lies a veneer of classism. Living efficiently is a privilege of the rich. Them, those humourless, boring, risk-averse fools.
Risk-averse Pākehā and smug, privileged Asians:
Can't live with them And they'll stalk you If you try to walk away from their traps! Oy vey!
Amanda Riddell
October 2024
When I was young, I used to refer to this group as 'the wine set' -- in reference to the fact that they were always drinking wine at the symphony, at movie premieres, and at other events.
I was religious about not using drugs or alcohol to enhance gigs or movies until after POAK. I took people drinking during at a movie or a gig as a form of insult. I felt like drinking was something that happened after the event (or should have been). We didn't have debutantes balls, but Wellington is a very rich town, and so small that literally everyone knows everyone. 40,000 or so in the CBD (which is mostly the setting of my movies). People remember us…