Look, Christchurch, about all that anti-New Zealand talk I gave earlier: it’s not you, it’s me. I said those things before I ever got a chance to know you… the real you. Because with so many cafes and bars, and cafe/bars, one could say that you are actually kind of cool. Who was I to judge?
But it was a week, and while I at first wanted only to escape you, I thought for moments that I enjoyed you. Sure, you may have an awkward number of erotic, adult stores – more than one would think suiting for such a small town – but the artwork, and used book stores, and funky fabrics and furniture stores – you could almost be like a mild version of Newtown.
Oh, the times we had together. Remember the time… well… uhhh… you know. Remember the time I walked to the movies in the rain and then proceeded to see Knight and Day by myself? (Don’t judge; it was the only movie on at the time I was there.) Oh, and that other time I got Chinese food because the place looked awesomely packed just to realize it was the worst thing I’ve ever tasted in my life? At least there was Winnie Bagoes to make up for that (except for the fact that people can stalk me there while sitting in another city – you know who you are).
I think in another life, we could have been friends… maybe more like Internet friends. Cheers.