Hey, Robyn. How are you? I’m in Wellington this weekend. Let me know if you want tickets to Operation Double Black and to catch up for a drink.
But while I’m at it, when you’re referring to the nonsense someone’s talking, it’s drivel, not dribble. That’s not for Robyn, that’s for the world at large.
Additionally, how fucking horrible are commenters at Kiwiblog? I’ve never made a personal insult against anyone there, to my knowledge, and I’ve ignored plenty against myself, and I make a genuine offer to have a drink with some people while I’m in Wellington. What do I get? Anonymous negative karma from various people and one anonymous abusive email. I just wanted a drink! And to see people face-to-face! I’m convinced that if you gathered half of these guys in a room who are constantly name-calling and abusing each other and gave them a couple of drinks and a chance to get to know each other, they’d get on fairly well. Still disagree, of course, but it is possible to disagree with someone and still get on with them.
People don’t seem to realise this. I don’t agree with any fucking friend I have. I can count on one hand the friends who come close to how I see the world. But I get on with PLENTY. Why? Because I don’t mistake people’s views for who they are.
I should note that David Farrar (hopeless Googler of his own name), Peter Cresswell and Annie Fox were all perfectly charming people when I had a drink with them in Auckland.
Anyway, mail me on wataki at gmail if you’re in Wellington and want to grab a drink on Saturday, or are interested in tickets to Operation Double Black on Saturday night.
