Kat and I are well settled in Wellington now.
We are officially “Wellingtonians“..

1) We’ve seen Brett McKenzie (of FoTC) in the street, at a cafe and now at the pool, along with other quasi-famous celebrities, including Giovanni Ribisi and Michael Imperioli (Christopher from the Sopranos) out in the wild.

2) We tend to frequent places with extremely good coffee/food/liquor

3) Every now and then, a windy day feels quite nice and refreshing.

In other news;

• We’ve moved things around in our flat, and had a few different people to stay from Auckland.
• We adopted a stray kitty!
  It is uber-cute, but quite sad looking and skinny.
• I got my iphone! It’s fully unlocked and working fine..
  In fact, most of the photos you can see on my moblog, are from the iphone.
• I tagged along to bits of webstock and met some pretty cool people.
• Kat got a new job with Massey University, which is heaps cooler than her last job.
• I’m still enjoying my job with Catalyst, especially all the awesome people and geeky things I’m learning.

I still get the feeling that this is more home than anywhere else, and I think that’s the most important thing of all.

I get all inspirational and creative just being here.. Looking out over the harbour and watching cars and planes and things happen, or being in the city among all the people..

There’s SO much to see here! So much art and music so many sculptures and the people are awesomely creative and smart.

Anyway, I’ve been meaning to integrate everything somehow into some form of flow. and the title of this post made me feel like it was getting there.
Sort of.

I’m reminded of the scene in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, by Hunter S. Thompson, where he’s reminiscing about the 60s, the era and the magic and all of that.

Somehow whatever I was thinking or feeling made me feel a little bit of that too..
Watching the sun drop over Mt. Victoria, from our house, with the remaining light filling up the bay..
It feels like now we’re a part of a huge wave, fueled by creativity and technology and inspiration..
Everything is so exciting and amazing, with new things happening all the time, people creating and people doing extraordinary things with and to themselves.
I feel like I’m learning more than ever about life, about myself and about interesting and intelligent things.

Right now, we’re riding on the wave of our generation, and it’s slowing rolling, gathering momentum and peaking, before crashing back up against the hills and leaving the same high-tide mark that Thompson was thinking about back in the 60s, in Vegas.

..

If you’ve got no idea what I mean, here’s the text from the book.

Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later? Six? It seems like a lifetime or at least a Main Era–the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . .

History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time—and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened.

My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe forty nights—or very early mornings—when I left the Fillmore half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean shorts and a Butte sheepherder’s jacket . . . booming through the Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral while I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . .

There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .

And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.