d f mamea

31 August 20144 September 2014

Hi-yo

Until a couple of years ago, my attitude to horses was similar to Billy Crystal‘s “Yeeha” in City Slickers (at 1:44 in the trailer below):

My first experience with horses was a sunset trek with friends more than a few years ago. I remember being taken aback at how big these beasts are, never having thought through the amount of muscle and bone required to carry riders in countless westerns and Black Beauty reboots. When we were led to a corral with horses, I requested a “quiet one with a touch of adventure” and was introduced to a gelding called Bruce.

Bruce and I got on fine: he followed the rest of the group over various tracks in the hills behind Johnsonville. I remember thinking how westerns never show a horse pooing voluminously or farting freely as they moved about.

A while into the trek an open paddock beckoned and the more experienced riders broke into a canter, leaving us behind. I remember urging Bruce on — with maybe a polite “Yah” and a tentative kick of the heels — and he accelerated from a walk to a trot to a canter, all the while I slid in slow motion from the saddle, hung onto his neck for a couple of strides, slipping further and further down until I was deposited on the grass and Bruce showed me his heels and backside.

There were no hard feelings. I was only winded. I had requested a mount “with a touch of adventure” which had obviously exceeded my ambition. Someone caught Bruce, I got back into the saddle and the rest of the trek was uneventful.

I’ve ridden a horse once since that trek, and although I’m told I “look good on a horse”, they’re not really my thing (though a part of me thinks horse riding could be a useful skill after The Crash). The Goddess is — there’s no other way of putting it — horse mad.

Which brings me to an overdue introduction of the cavalry troop at Fortress Mamea:

The Goddess’ mount, The Kaimanawa Pony stands 14.2 hands high.

In the past week, the troop has ~~doubled~~ increased by two-thirds with a new recruit:

A paddock companion for the Kaimanawa: The Exmoor Mini stands 10 hands tall.

Onwards, ho, indeed.

29 July 201429 July 2014

GOODBYE MY FELENI: toe sau

It’s back, this time as part of the 2014 Going West Books and Writers Festival.

Tickets are on sale now from Eventfinder.

The 2014 season is 28–31 August 2014 at the Playhouse Theatre, Glen Eden.

Returning for their second — and for some, third — tour of duty are:

Amelia Reid-Meredith, director;
Shadon Meredith, Lance Corporal Simi Bishop;
Ruby Reihana-Wilson, operator;
and Jenni Heka, producer.

Freshies for the 2014 season are:

Shimpal Lelisi, Sergeant Ete Masani;
Pua Magasiva, Private Tama Apara;
Dominic Ona Ariki, Private Sione Make;
Jane Hakaraia, lighting design;
Posenai Mavaega & Tania Muagututi’a, sound design;
and Venus Stephens, costume design.

Onwards ho!

(Translation of “toe sau” — Samoan for “come again” or “return”.)

16 June 201431 July 2014

Yowch

The other day, I was out and about in the Goddess’ chariot, far from the fortress, when I entered a roundabout and saw a blue car approaching from my left —

— I noticed it wasn’t slowing down — matter of fact, it was already right — riiiiight — in front of me and I thought, “You’ve got to be kidding, dude” when —

— my seatbelt tightened as we collided and the Fiat’s bonnet crumpled alarmingly towards me and I thought, “The Goddess is not going to like that” —

— my point-of-view skewed rightwards as the cars separated, the other car spinning off the road while the Fiat came to a complete stop, at a right angle to its original direction only moments earlier —

— and I thought, “Un-fucking-believable,” angry that I was involved in an accident, and in the Goddess’ chariot to boot.

I got out and ran to the other car which was already swarming with concerned motorists. The other driver was alive and moving — “I’m so sorry,” he said — and my anger disappeared. The road seemed crowded with pedestrians — every second or third one asking if I’m okay — and when I returned to the Fiat to try and get it off the road — a guy with calm efficiency told me he had it under control and why don’t I go and sit down on the verge over there.

I sat down on the grass as a half-dozen people pushed the chariot to the side of the road, others directing traffic, strangers brought together in that moment to help out, clean up, and keep things moving and safe. I was alive. So was the other driver. Things could have been so much worse but we both walked away from our vehicles that day.

Yes: unfortunately, the Italian stallion is no more:

I look at the picture and I’m grateful for engineers and crumple zones. Grateful to the motorists who stopped and helped that afternoon, foremost Phil who took charge. Grateful to Woody the police sergeant who attended the scene. And grateful to still be here.

25 May 20141 February 2017

Mucking with the G

This came to mind after a recent rodent run-in:

It’s that time of the year when some of the forest folk seek shelter in Fortress Mamea from the inclement weather. When scratching noises emanated from the kitchen, The Kitten was duly dispatched. She promptly returned to her currently favoured chair (a Sanderson linen-covered armchair) and resumed her nap.

The Dog and I were then dispatched — The Goddess exhorting us to Kill it kill it kill it — and we chased the rodent from the kitchen, through the Big Hall, around the Banquet Room and finally back to the kitchen. As The Dog and I caught our breath, the invader made Yah loser noises from deep within a cupboard.

Right then, I breathed. A trap was set with a wee treat of peanut butter.

The following morning:

A Fortress Mamea interloper who pushed their luck.

So did I do a little Sean Connery impression when I took the above photo? Yesh, I did. I hope hish friendsh were watching.

30 April 201410 July 2017

The Dog

Ever since her first appearance, The Dog has been an almost annual feature here. It’s hard to believe she’s eleven years old already. Her mortality was first brought home to us when our first chicken was killed:

EXT. PET SEMATARY, FORTRESS MAMEA

OUR WRITER and his GODDESS stare at a freshly dug grave. Our Writer rapidly blinks away a dust mote.

GODDESS

(off Writer)

If we’re this upset over a chicken, imagine when The Dog goes.

The Dog was the first addition to Fortress Mamea in 2003. A family canine was something the adult family members wanted: we’d each had a dog in our childhood, though this time around we had requirements like

no begging at the dinner table,
no sleeping on the bed,
and some actual obedience.

We were largely successful: there’s no begging at mealtimes, The Dog knows not to jump onto our bed (the children’s beds are a different matter), and she returns on command.

She and I have clocked up some serious mileage over the years (not so much for a while), but this year she was retired from the exercise regime. Long gone are the days where she would shadow me as I 1). put on my running shoes, 2). ground through some stretching exercises, and 3). collected her lead and my stopwatch from the Wall Hook of Righteous Agony. In the last few months, she has had to be coaxed more and more: at first to leave her dog bed for the brisk morning air and, later, to leave the fortress altogether.

The Dog is getting old. She’s farting more freely, her snoring is louder and more insistent, and her daily ratio of resting versus all-out-physicality has changed markedly. The Goddess and I have been meaning to get a puppy these past few years, ostensibly to keep The Dog company when we’re not at home, but we haven’t even window-shopped. I suspect, deep down, we know that to begin looking for a puppy would be to acknowledge The Dog’s mortality.

The Kitten could be seen in hindsight as a transitional stage. It is heartening to see The Dog initiate playtime with The Kitten.

THE KITTEN -- fully grown now but always referred to as “The Kitten” -- climbs through her CAT FLAP when --

-- THE DOG leaps as if from nowhere --

DOG

(translated)

You’re IT!

-- and lands a paw on the cat’s hindquarters, the dog’s mass and speed spinning the cat 360 degrees until she recovers, back arched and glaring at The Dog:

KITTEN

(translated)

Step back or die, cur.

The Dog will forever be Fortress Mamea’s first hound. And until it’s time for her to go, we’ll continue to feed her, walk her, and love her.

31 March 2014

The Camry Sportswagon

Almost ten years ago, we acquired a second-hand, New Zealand-new stationwagon. The Boy, seven at the time, took one look at the Advanti Racing alloy-shod Camry 220 GL and declared it a sportswagon. I suppose when you’re seven and you’re a Holden V8 fan with a cap and jacket to prove it, you make do with what you get.

I grew up with a succession of Ford Falcon stationwagons. A lot of my childhood holiday memories include lying in the rear cargo area, in a cocoon of blankets and luggage, en route to some faraway destination; if I got bored, I played polite games of shoot-’em-up with the driver of the vehicle behind us.

I never thought I’d end up driving a Toyota as an adult. They’re so ubiquitous that… well, I thought Other People drove the damned things. Not me.

But the Camry grew on me. The 2.2-litre engine is a good compromise between around-town trips and our annual cross-country holidays. It’s wide enough to give each occupant room to move — on long trips, the kids would fill up the backseat and footwell with a myriad of items to keep them occupied. The rear cargo area can accommodate: luggage for five; film-making gear; a month’s grocery shopping; or firewood aplenty (with the backseat folded forward). It’s a workhorse, baby, and it can take on any job you throw at it.

I know that, alloys aside, we’ve got a stock Camry. But there’s something about our ‘wagon that makes it stand out from the rest of the ‘wagons out there.

And you know what it is? They’re not sportswagons.

(This post started out as a bit of a love-post in 2007. I thought I’d published it ages ago but obviously haven’t. So why now? The Camry is about to be retired. We added 200,000+kms to the odometer, traversed State Highway 1 innumerable times in it, and it has long been Fortress Mamea’s faithful and reliable war- and work-horse. A farewell ceremony involving fish ‘n’ chips and lipstick is scheduled in the very near future.)

6 March 201410 July 2017

More —

— animal pics: this wee fulla I came across whilst doing some research and just had to share.

And now for the usual suspects.

The Cat after some under-the-house exploring.

We usually refrain from giving the animals’ actual names but our rooster’s handle is just too cool for school:

Some proper posting will follow.

28 February 20141 March 2014

Kingswood

Below is the text of a two-minute pitch I presented at PANNZ Marketplace earlier this week.

I have an old VHS tape at home. It’s got a road trip my friend Stevo and I did of the South Island. Partway through the video there are a couple of minutes of some shaky-cam of the road, then panning to me behind the wheel studiously ignoring the camera, and all the while Stevo is singing along to Carole King’s (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman.

I think that at that time in our trip we weren’t talking to each other.

I also think that at that moment I was looking for a quiet spot just off State Highway 6 where I was going to kill him and dump his body.

Those two minutes of video were the inspiration for Kingswood: how music is integral to that portion of our lives we spend going somewhere in a car; and how the past, love and forgiveness hold together our relationships.

Kingswood is a play about four thirtysomething friends who drive from Auckland to Wellington in a classic Holden station wagon — the same station wagon that was their ride at university, that took them to parties all over town, and carried them on long road trips around the country.

But it’s ten years after uni now.

And so, over two days and seven hundred kilometres, the audience will watch these four friends share unreliable reminiscences, sing along to Fur Patrol, Ardijah and the Exponents… and try to deal with decisions they made when they were twentysomething and thought that life was going to be a piece of piss.

Kingswood is about the people and things we hold on to in this life.

A revised first draft of the script is scheduled for delivery at the end of March for a workshop and rehearsed reading.

As the writer, I’m looking forward to a development season in the second half of 2014. The producer is witholding any comment until she sees the March draft.

Thank you for listening. I’m David Mamea, and I look forward to considering offers for Kingswood.

8 January 20142 January 2014

Where Themes Come From II

INT. REHEARSAL ROOM -- DAY -- FLASHBACK

DRAMATURG

What is “Goodbye My Feleni” about?

WRITER

(shrugs)

It’s about a bunch of Pacific Island soldiers mucking about.

Our Writer sees this will not fly with the Dramaturg.

WRITER

It’s ah, it’s um about... brothers...?

You’d think after all this time I’d know what I was doing more often than not.

1 January 20142 January 2014

2013 in Print

A terrible year for the reading diary: a meagre 72 titles passed through my grubby fingers.

Still — stand–outs were:

Comics

iZombie Volume 1: Dead to the World by Chris Roberson and Michael Allred
Beast by Marian Churchland
The Hive by Charles Burns

Books

World War Z by Max Brooks
The Good War by Studs Terkel
Glitz by Elmore Leonard

Scripts
Tyrant by Gideon Roff
Modern Family — S01E07 by Danny Zuker
Law & Order — S08E09 — Burned by Siobhan Byrne
Baghdad Baby! by Dean Parker
Midnight in Moscow by Dean Parker

Usually, whatever gets listed in these end–of–year posts is culled from a larger short–list of what made an impact. Not so 2013.

Late new year resolution: Read more.