Phases I have Lived

Part TWO.

My soon-to-be-released book is a 440 page beast of Gen X nostalgia time travel.

But within that book there are many phases…

In the last post, the last phase was

HOMELESS / HOBO GUTTER PUNK PHASE. Age 17 -

I wrapped up this phase after almost 4 months, as being a fucking BUM TOTALLY SUCKS!

I got a Job at Wendy’s and entered my:

TRENCH COAT WEARING, PUNK GIG GOING, WOMAN WOOING, LIVING IN A UNI STUDENTS’ LAUNDRY, SORT OF IN SOCIETY BUT NOT REALLY PHASE.

STORIES: THE GIRL FROM THE ISLAND, WITCHY CHIN.

Two Incidents with two witchy women scarred me and programmed me forever.

Onto this scene walked a girl. Straight jet black hair, black arty clothes…. a black lace choker…very white…well fed…big big tits… with that hunted nervous look of 90s parental abandonment and low self-esteem.

I looked at her a few times and smiled.

AND

One night upon staggering, exhilarated, bruised and gasping from the Punk hall I saw a tall thin red-headed woman eyeing me like a calculating shark…
She was in her mid-20s, wearing a black leather jacket and rainbow-striped tights ending in black Dr Marten Boots.
She had a slightly witchy chin…
Not incredibly pretty, nor wholly terrifying. Definitely a woman. Her long black, painted nails drummed upon the wooden railing as she looked me up and down.
I tried to put on an air of experience and cool.

Maybe even used my “Sparkly eyes technique on her…

---

I fled from Witchy Chin and entered my next phase.

ABSOLUTELY LOST DOING NOTHING BUT WANDERING ABOUT, GETTING INTO MISCHEIF AND DANGEROUSLY EXPERIMENTING WITH DRUGS UNTIL I’M HIDING OUT ON AN ISLAND OFF THE COAST OF NEW ZELAND IN A HUT IN THE BUSH WIGGING OUT PHASE.

STORIES: POISON APPLE, DARK MASTER, WHACKY STICK, OUT OF TREE STOOLS, ON THE COUCH OFF THE COUCH, THE BAZ.

—

In these stories, I cross paths with Punk Greatness for one fleeting moment.

We barreled into his cottage with a moldy joint blazed and found him in a secretive discussion with a black coated dark skinned Itallian looking man. He nodded to us and introduced the man as Jaz ( THE Genius/Legend Jaz Coleman ladies and gentlemen, yes google search that now. The stars aligned on that fateful day and Jaz Coleman did indeed stand before the Demented Hobo greatness that was I ).

He Offered the reeking joint of moldy weed -which was now burning like a torch sending up plumes of superheated greasy brown smoke – to Jaz who swiftly declined the toxic thing, commenting off handedly that smoking moldy dope will make you go mad and then kill you…

Stay Tuned for more phases as my book nears its release date!

Get an advance reader / review copy!

Ryan Gosling Slept Here: True Tales of a Post-Grunge Drifter