45 Berkeley, CA
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My self-summary
Is it my dimpled boyish smile or my knowing but eager gaze when I listen to your darkest secrets? Is it the angular mountainous terrain of my shoulders ridged like the Cascades along the fault line of my back? Or perhaps my effortless ability to range over myriad conversational topics, such as the satire of Bulgakov in the Stalin era, or the comparison of specific enthalpy as evaluated at the same pressure for actual and ideal steam turbines? Perhaps the path integral formulation of quantum mechanics as postulated by Feynman, or even his choice in women? The understated but nevertheless appallingly momentous decision to designate barbecued chicken a legitimate pizza topping, or the idea of considering tobacco a vegetable?

Who knows.

One thing is clear: I want to know you - yes, you. You reading this right now: I want to paddle you up the river, belay your highest climb, top your bottom and be the ENTP to your inner ISFJ. I'm the swinging door in your open relationship, or the tip of the iceberg - there, starboard - as your ship of longing veers off-course.

Alchemic in my potion-making, I'll catch you off-guard and then challenge you to a fencing duel, your ankles bound and throwing stars hidden in my waistband. But I'll let you win anyway because I know you're good at tending to my inevitable wounds.

We'll go somewhere - anywhere - I'll meet you there. If I show up, I'll explain Shinogi-Zukuri katana construction under the Tokugawa shogunate, introduce you to underground croissant bakers sweaty in their sous-sol and reveal to you the small crack in the basement wall where they conceal their hip flasks of Calvados. We'll drink mint tea with the blue men of the Sahara, because there's nothing like feeling blue in Timbuktu.
What I’m doing with my life
I’m really good at
The first things people usually notice about me
Room temp drops when I enter.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
De Sade

The six things I could never do without
Helping you count to six.
Flies in amber.
Spanish cowhide.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
If you knew you'd be sad.
On a typical Friday night I am
How many Friday nights does anyone spend considering Christian theology and Biblical exegesis as a doctrine or theory concerning the relationship between the Old and New Testaments? Or am I misinterpreting the question?
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
Hands inured in a triangle, forefingers tapping.
You should message me if
You want nice presents.