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Greg Curtis

Greg Curtis was born in New Zealand, land of the long white cloud and small flightless birds. He grew up in the city of Wellington, renown for its high winds and the almost magical ability of rain and sleet to be lifted off the street and blasted into one's face. After eighteen years of suffering the cold and wet, he was finally blown away in a particularly bad storm to settle far away as a student. He stayed there for more years than most would ever admit to, quitting the life only when his student allowances ran out. More latterly he became an overqualified and underpaid worker in the health sector, (aren't we all) And spends his days talking to people about their various maladies. He spends his nights talking to his cats! He has lived in the city of Rotorua, one of the very few places in the world where people have actually chosen to reside beside active geysers and breath air that reeks of sulphur, for the past fifteen years, and has finally got used to the smell of sulfur! When not engaged in his great passions of reading and writing science fiction and fantasy, he drinks strong black coffee (some call it tar), and consumes copious amounts of chocolate (dark naturally). He lives a quiet life of contemplation as the high priest to his two cats, worshipping them with regular gifts of food, occasional grooming and by providing them with a warm dry place to sleep. They in turn look down upon him with typical feline disdain, but occasionally deign to bring him gifts of headless vermin, - as a warning. In a desperate bid to understand the meaning of his life, he has recently started studying philosophy, particularly metaphysics, and finally concluded that God is a cat! As he always says, cheers and be good or don't get caught.


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