Got a shockingly late start for a day of fishing (9 a.m.) with Tom Northcroft (Maori with a Brit name)…no luck. Caught a phatty but it got away.
Went back to trailer park and played poker and talked about gaggy Vegemite. Ate “no frills” brand-name white bread, butter and tomato sauce. It was all so charmingly trashy.
Started scheming for another fishing outing — 5 a.m. manana…goin’ to the headwaters…
Four a.m. call for fishing on the banks of Lake Taupo, where spawning fish move from lake to river) phat rainbows and browns, apparently. Man Next to Me hauled in five glorious honkers and we were skunked, again. Funny guide named Wayne kept calling us girly wirlys. Liza has a good cast. I’ve lost my piscine touch, that’s for sure.
Drove on to Wellington. Had dinner with gang, including [sound diva] Jan’s partner and his friend. All very civilized and interesting. Everyone went out to party and I came home to sleep…how pathetic.
So devastated by a phone message from Keri Hulme today: “Chances of us hooking up are slim. But can fax.”
WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?
I want to bellow in desperation and tell her that years of hard work boil down to her — la prima diva down under — the only reason I wanted to come here. But I also want to kick myself in the head for being so nonchalant and pulling the trigger on this without confirmation. Oh god. What a fuck-up. I keep reading into those few words…hoping for hope.
On a brighter note, played pool with Samoan Islander filmmaker Sima Urale and also with social dynamo and way-engaging Gaylene Preston, who is the Madame of Docos here. She walked me around her haunts and was smart and gracious and giving and up to the brim with that mana stuff. Even though she’s a world class doco maker, still has to fight the fight. Her next adventure is having things easy — all the resources she needs. One of my favorite things she said was great things happen by accident — creative things.
But nothing is keeping me happy after that phone message.
Gosh, things are getting dismal on the Keri front. Apparently Keri called Gaylene and told her that her nephew was sick and she was trying to reach me. Now, tonight, Gaylene tells me that she’s “getting cold feet.” but there’s something to say for “just showing up” says Gaylene. She encouraged me to persist and offered me any of her footage from her Keri doc.
What to do. Am too tired to think.
Have been through a Keri Hulme roller coaster.
I’m devastated by my floundering faxes. Got two angry messages from her saying “call me back in 5 minutes.” She Who Never Makes Calls.
Then in the depth of my depression, after sending a shockingly groveling fax, I receive a nice chirpy fax from her inviting me to come on by — but no cameras! Eeh gads things, are tricky with these stroppy sheilas. I am so happy though, because, really, it is certainly Keri Hulme who brought us to NZ and Keri Hulme who got me to start divas. She is the stroppy template, so to speak.
Off to the South Island early tomorrow a.m.
Casting and Faxing
our web editrix extracted my personal journal from me upon returning from the shoots. so herewith, are the ramblings of an often very tired whiney git. unfortunately she took out all the sexual exploits and most of the minor felonies.
Editor’s note: The missing excerpts from this journal by Divas’ director & creative heavy Holly Morris are available for a modest fee.
- Hard Labor
- Women May Suffer Most
- Public and Private
- Remember Human Rights
- Apartment Available: Ulaanbaatar
- The Kids in Mongolia
- Ten Lessons for Peacemakers
- Another Look at Cuba
- Hook, Line and Pinker
- Road Sex
- Booty Politics
- Spotlight: RAWA
From the Shoots
- cuba: Paradox Found
- india: Holy Cow
- new zealand: Stroppy Sheilas & Mana Wahines
- iran: Behind Closed Cha-dors