in space no-one can hear your lens flare

I don’t want to be helpless. I like things complex.


The building that housed Spartacus Books, Blunt Brothers and Cabbages and Kinks burned down about a week ago. Marissa used to have gigs at Blunts years ago. Sitting in the sunlit gloom, waiting for her to play. Smoke hazing everything. I would have to clean my glassess off after leaving on busy nights. I met Lidd there. After a gig we were all to go over to that tacky hotel bar that was so popular with everyone then. Gold metal ceiling and terrible grasshoppers. I had to sit in his lap to fit into the car. Nathanial apparently had his paintings up there. I kept meaning to go in a look. I wondered briefly if he would say anything if I walked in and he was there. He used to cross the street when he saw me coming. Scared, for some reason. I wanted nothing of him then, but now I want Gavins last name.

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