1996 was, in retrospect, an important year in many ways. Hopefully, I’ll find the time to explore such recollections in a little more detail, however, for now, I just want to put up a skeleton.

I had a modest circle of friends to speak of, and I didn’t find myself in complete isolation, particularly on club nights, such as “Arcadia” or the like, at the Normanby.

ABOVE: A few of the gang – some here are now a thousand miles away, some an eternity. I’m filled with both regret and joy, altogether a disconcerting mix of emotions. [Source: Rave Magazine – Around Town, p. 32, 13 Nov 1996]

At the beginning of the year, I moved into my first share house – in Clifton Street, Petrie Terrace, still in tatters from a deeply disastrous relationship of the year before. This, I might add, was after wasting a considerable amount of time during my Bachelor’s degree at QUT, spent moping about from disaster mk I.

For now, I can’t recall exactly how arrangements were made, but I presume that this was done in person, as I didn’t respond to an ad. I suspect that this was one of those fortuitous scene moments that led me to residing in the corner room, with fresh black candle wax dripped on the window sill. Brisbane, being Brisbane, led to the previous occupier making themselves known to me at a club one night, resulting in one of those oh-so-goth “so that was your black candle wax” moments. We went out once to see “Rocky Horror” (in full attire) which was screening in Brunswick Street, and had a blast, knowing that nothing serious was to become of things.

Later that year, I signed a lease with a special friend of Clifton Street for a house in Mountjoy Steet, at the other end of Petrie Terrace. It was our house, and the sense of independence was quite inspiring at the time. Needless to say, the novelty wore off in a financial sense, as we quickly needed housemate #3 to make up the rent.

Visitors would call from time to time, and at times quite frequently. This mostly resulted in me directing them to my housemate, however word seemed to have spread about the house and it was later to become quite sought after.

All in all, the house in Mountjoy street led to the beginning of the rest of my life, with the woman I love to this day. But that is another story (and I do mean story). For now, I’m happy to have a quick drink for seasons passed, and friends made and lost.