I wear a lot of plaid. In some other universe, I'm a lumberjack. An ambiguously gay, polyamorous lumberjack. In that universe we sing our lumberjack songs high in the tree tops. After a hard day of feeding otters and being manly - and not really cutting down any trees at all, the homoerotic lumberjack crew retires to a rustic cabin. There's totally a deer head in there somewhere... and pelts. Something sexy happens on those pelts.

Despite the hotn'heavy pelt action, here, in the forest, we're in it for the high fidelity. No one wants to break up the band and we spend a lot of time perfecting those harmonies.

In this universe, I work in front of a computer all day. Let's not talk about that. In my off time, I rebuild my inner lumberjack by grabbing a queer or two and heading to the forest. We camp, and fish, and go for walks, and I feel good in my plaid.

I have a cat. He fetches. We cuddle.

I'm big on love, trust, and community.

Fiction ain't really my bag... except stories that are heavy stuff, disguised as stories. Heinlein's a fave. Non-fiction: Philosophy, Religion, Alchemy. If you can talk about Khunrath and Michael Maier, I'll probably smooch on you - even if you smell weird.

Music is like fiction. It's gotta have some meat to it. I like the sound of hippies and people who wear those things around their necks so they can play guitar and harmonica at the same time.

Food is like fiction. It's gotta have some meat to it.

When I get tired of all the meat, there's nothing I like better than curling up in front of a movie. Any movie. Ok... I especially like war movies. I guess that's kinda like meat too.

1. Camping gear
2. Guitar or piano or something else to make music with.
3. A stack of old heavy books
4. Pencil
5. The little black sketchbook.
6. A backpack or a car so I can move this stuff around.

Throwing everything in the car and heading north. I've got a few acres out there. It's the new centre of my universe.

You dress like a lumberjack. Message me if you write good messages.