Wild People, Outlaws, Pirates, and Hooligans
Today I finally met the mysterious Loki, he of Humid City infamy. We’d never met face to face before, only communicated by phone or email since we became internet associates. So I expected a voluble kid, a vibrant youngster afire with the possibilities of what can become of the world we know by what we do. I wasn’t wrong.
He’s a dreamer, a schemer, a post-K hippy entrepreneur out to change the landscape of this damp sloppy mess of a city we’ve all inherited.
We met at my local corner coffee house and eventually settled outside at a small table cause we both needed to light up and lean back. Loki spoke to everyone who passed us by, which is something I would never do. I have to know a person for months, then be introduced before I can so much as look him in the eye.
He spoke about our cohorts on the Humid City site, none of whom I’ve met yet. I think they must be a lot like him, a posse of wild people, outlaws, pirates, and hooligans, the kind of people who first populated and shaped the crescent on the river we call home today.
Personally, in this bunch, I feel like Miss Kitty.
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