I love fucked-up people
She looks his way and their eyes connect He likes what he sees and wants more
A space previously empty is suddenly filled with her.
Spunkrat and Night Owl are on IRC (Internet Relay Chat). Circa 1997.
“How long has it been?” “Just over a year” “I can’t believe you’re here” “Neither can I…”
I didn’t quite know how such a bunch of chaotic yet superb looking people came to be at my party.
She flies silently
Well she is back. I’ve just been kissing her in the kitchen.
It is the 27th day of the 27th year.
I open the gate at a quarter to the hour. She could turn up early. Halfway up the path, I glance backwards over my shoulder. No sign yet.
I met a girl In a sunflower skirt
I find myself in the eye of the whirlpool. It swirls inside a spectrum of colour, multiple light shafts, liquid shapes, and a haze of noise.
Ponsonby Road in 1974 was a strange and dangerous place – if you were a biker kid.
They called it the “Wild West Coast”. Wild beaches, wild weather, wild people.