"... The people who move through the streets are all strangers. At each encounter, they imagine a thousand things about one another; meetings which could take place between them, conversations, surprises, caresses, bites. But no one greets anyone; eyes lock for a second, then dart away, seeking other eyes, never stopping.

A girl then comes along, twirling a parasol on her shoulder and twirling slightly also her rounded hips..."

Hi.

I'm Sal. Put down that umbrella for a second. What's that? Parasol? No, it's an umbrella. Um-bre-lla. And what the hell are you doing with your hips? Stop doing that, it's weird. And now your eyes are darting around like crazy. God, I always end up stopping the weird ones...

Anyway, here's some stuff you should know about me, umbrella lady.

1. I'm 5'11 and refuse to acknowledge this 5'10 and three quarters business that my doctor keeps telling me.

2. Optimists say the glass is half full; pessimists say it's half empty. Personally, I say the glass is completely full — half with water, half with air. I like to think this means I'm a realist. But mostly it just means I'm not invited to parties.

3. Texan girls are cute and can be fun, but it's hard to find women of substance. I'm hoping there are one or two hiding out on here.

4. I really love it when a girl runs her fingers through my chesthair. I know, it sounds weird, but if you had chesthair you'd fucking love it too, so don't judge.

5. Sometimes I can be pretty pensive. I suspect I have the soul of a 60 year old man. I know what you're thinking — "wow, he must be really mature, that's kinda sexy."

Shut up and get off my lawn.

6. I can be a bit of a flirt. But I'm really good at it. One flirt from me is as good as, like, three or four normal flirts.

7. INTP a.k.a the architect — talk to me about philosophy, neuroscience, physics, psychology, art, language, literature, chicken, the world. Brains are hot. Have them.

8. When it comes down to it, I guess what I'm really looking for is a reason to clean my bathroom.

I try to keep my life simple and austere. But I also believe in constantly bettering and challenging myself.

To give you an idea: I am currently finishing school, Crossfitting, training Jeet Kune Do and boxing, dancing salsa, doing improv, getting into rock-climbing, brushing up my photography, learning capoeira, volunteering twice a week teaching English to refugees, reading feverishly, teaching myself French, eating a moderate paleo diet (translation: no grains), memorizing poetry so I can recite it by heart, fasting twice a week, and writing a book.

But don't ask me about my book. I'll tell you about it later. Like, maybe after we've been married for a few years and you confront me about it violently.

sounding debonaire when I curse,
not remembering names,
being handsome,
vanquishing bad guys with a mere look,
charming old ladies,
playing with kids,
dancing better than the white boys,
and rhyming all the time...ing.

I've been told I'm "mansome." I don't actually know what that means, but I'm hoping you do and you're totally into that.

People often stop me to tell me that I look like [contemporaneous colored athlete]. Which is okay, because I think we all look alike too.

Read – Nabokov, Wittgenstein, Neruda
Filmgo – City of God (Cidade de Deus), Annie Hall, Samsara
Watch – Six Feet Under, The Wire, Cowboy Bebop
Listen – Tinashe - Boss (Ryan Hemsworth Remix)
Cast – This American Life, Radiolab, The MOTH, SYSK
Eat – Cobb salads. Lots of them.

Rilke's letters;
the embittered-old-man gripes of Louis C.K.;
those crisp nights when you can see all the stars in the sky;
Bill Watterson, for implanting false memories about how wonderful my childhood was;
bathroom breaks;
and, of course, my fan club.

Do vegans swallow? Are "scenesters" really people, like with feelings and internal organs and all that? And what's that white stuff in bird poop? It's philosophical questions like these that keep me up at night.

I figured out what that white stuff is though. Turns out, it's also bird poop.

Habitus. Incentives. Word choice.

sounding my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

I'm actually two midgets in a trench coat. I hope you're open-minded.

Also, I take lots of naps. I consider this a daily act of defiance against the concept of adulthood.

Oh, and I'm a feminist. In a roundabout sort of way.

You seek first to understand, then to be understood.

You're sensitive to the suffering in the world, yet know how to belly laugh.

You're not a bitch, but you are a bit of a bastard.

You actually read my profile. In which case — congratulations! You are now in love with me. See how easy that was? Now you make me a baby. Haha, I'm kidding. Why make a baby when we can just steal one?