We met at that rave thing under the bridge. Not even really sure how me and my friends ended up there. We were at a pretty cool rooftop party in Gastown that had a solid DJ (and even snacks!) before that. I didn’t want to go to the bridge rave thing but L (I’m sure you remember her, she kept saying “blessings from Beyonce” at the end of every goddamn sentence.) made us all vote and I lost. So we get under the bridge and the first person I see is you. You looked like I felt, which is why I stood beside you while that weird trip-hop DJ shook his big ol’ dreadlocks around with the beat.
To make a short story shorter, we started talking, you made that joke about your friend’s love of head cheese, which I needed you to explain and is absolutely disgusting, and we ended up back at my place. We didn’t exchange names or numbers and I almost forget what you look like except for one thing: while we were fucking your eyes kept rolling back in your head, which was totally weird, but what was weirder still is that I remember seeing my reflection in the whites of your eyes as you Linda Blair’d out on top of me. Anyways, I thought you were pretty cool, if you see this get at me, I’d be more than happy to be your Father Karras again.
vancouver, BC > vancouver > housing > apts/housing for rent
Portrait by Dylan Homer for Portraits of Brief, Casual Encounters