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sciascia

33 M Washington, DC

My Details

Last Online
Jul 22
Orientation
Straight
Ethnicity
White
Height
5′ 9″ (1.75m)
Body Type
Athletic
Diet
Anything
Smokes
No
Drinks
Often
Drugs
Religion
Agnosticism, and laughing about it
Sign
Virgo, but it doesn’t matter
Education
Graduated from university
Job
Education
Income
Rather not say
Relationship Status
Single
Relationship Type
Offspring
Doesn’t have kids, but might want them
Pets
Likes dogs and likes cats
Speaks
English (Fluently), Italian (Poorly), Spanish (Poorly)

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My self-summary
I used to think I was a total degenerate, and not even the cool kind. Then I bartended Madam's Organ's employee holiday party two years in a row and decided I was probably being too hard on myself.

I was watching a Ted Bundy biopic on TV a couple years ago when I learned that I share my name with one of his aliases, although the internet later confirmed there is a one-letter spelling variation. Still--thanks, mom and dad.

My theory is that if hell exists, it will be your worst nightmare played out in perpetuity. Which means that after I die, I'll be 6-people-deep at the bar at Sticky Rice on a Friday at midnight, sandwiched between a speaker with the bass turned all the way up and a phalanx of drunken Gallaudet students, trying in vain to get the bartender's attention, for the rest of eternity. And yet, horrifying though this prospect may be, it's still not enough motivation to get religion. (Or an editor.)

I'm originally from southwestern Connecticut, near enough to the Long Island Sound to be considered a beach town but close enough to New York City to be considered a far-flung suburb. I moved to DC for college and have been here more or less full-time for the past 15 years. While I often miss living near water and (most especially!) having a lawn to mow, having to drive everywhere and calling last call at 1:30 on the weekends are kind of dealbreakers.

I am happiest in a pair of running shoes (or not--I have a pair of Five Fingers, although I wouldn't go so far as to wear them out socially). I also love to cook; prepping a meal is meditative for me in the same way that running is: You just fall into a rhythm and let the zen flow through you. When I'm not working, running, drinking, cooking, or mainlining Netflix, I like to read, or sit somewhere and work a crossword, ride my bike, or just wander around. There's always something to do around here.
What I’m doing with my life
Basically the Shawshank Redemption, but with more tunneling through shit and no fuckin' redemption.

To put it slightly differently, I'm trying to learn to approach life the same way I do running. It's not about finding the finish line; it's not about getting there first; and it's definitely not about crushing everyone in my path along the way. I don't have any interest in following a prescribed course, and I don't set out to run a marathon. I'd love to wake up one day and have MapMyRun tell me I ran one the day before, but I feel like actually making that my endgame would take the pleasure out of it.

It's not that I don't have goals or that I don't value planning at all. But I am parenthetically inclined and given to digression as much in everyday life as I am when I'm writing or running, and thus willing enough to let curiosity draw me off course that some times I end up somewhere far from where I had originally intended to be. At times this works out great; other times I hit the wall and have to walk back home. And that's sort of the point.

Also, I like running downhill backwards.
I’m really good at
- Making meatballs. My recipe is pretty unique. The end result has been said to defy gravity. (That actually has been said.) I'm not being facetious or self-congratulatory; these are some tender fucking meatballs. Meat pillows, more like it.
- Finding the least expensive chunk of parmigiano reggiano in the fancy cheese bin at the grocery store.
- Recall. More stupid human trick than anything, but I have an insanely good memory for names on bar tabs throughout the course of a shift. I could have 100 tabs open simultaneously, but if you started one with me at any point in the night, I will remember your name every time you come back for a drink. A less useful application of this talent is my encyclopedic memory for Onion headlines. (All-time favorites include: "Friend Who Can Play 'Law & Order' Theme on the Bass Asked to Do So"; "Actually, Suicide not the Easy Way Out for Area Quadriplegic"; "Nabisco Discontinues Wheat Thicks"; and--possibly my outright favorite--"Ghost of Anne Frank: 'Quit Reading my Diary.'")
- Giving police statements in drunken, halting Italian (It's a long story).
- Swearing. I'm shooting for Malcolm Tucker, but I'll settle for Jamie McDonald. Debra Morgan is the platonic ideal. (Jennifer Carpenter's delivery of the line "Shit a brick and fuck me with it!" almost redeems the entirety of Dexter's fifth season. Almost.)
The first things people usually notice about me
My hair. It's long, curly, red(dish), and people frequently want to touch it.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Books: I'd be remiss if I excluded this profile's namesake, Leonardo Sciascia. "Sicilian Uncles" is my favorite, although his quote-unquote existential detective novels, such as "Day of the Owl," are top-shelf as well. Sciascia aside, I largely prefer contemporary fiction to anything else: Stuff like Don Winslow and George Pelecanos, or psychological suspense a la Tana French or Jo Nesbo. Other favorites--and by "favorites" I mean "authors whose publishing schedules I keep tabs on so I know when something new is coming out"; my day job is very helpful in this regard--include Jennifer Egan, Tom Franklin, Sam Lipsyte, Gillian Flynn, Jim Shepard, Stacey Richter, and Patrick DeWitt. And while I don't sit around reading poetry (not that there's anything wrong with that), I do have lots of love for the late, great Ted Berrigan, in particular the formal experiments in "The Sonnets" and "A Certain Slant of Sunlight."

More books I really like by authors whose publishing schedules I don't obsess over: Ovenman (Jeff Parker); Under the Frog (Tibor Fischer); Three Dollars (Eliot Perlman); The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (Alan Sillitoe); Spanking the Donkey (Matt Taibbi); Born to Run (Chris McDougal); What I Talk About When I Talk About Running (Haruki Murakami); Heat (Bill Buford); The Bad Guys Won! (Jeff Pearlman).

As far as classics go, I think "Candide" by Voltaire is one of the funniest things ever written, and the closing line in James Joyce's "Araby" is so devastatingly good it's been seared into my memory, but generally speaking, I tend to prefer stuff that's more modern than modernist.

Just finished: "Sous Chef," Michael Gibney.
Currently reading: "The Rise and Fall of Great Powers," Tom Rachman.
Up Next: "Bone Dust White," Karen Salvalaggio.
After That: "The Imperfectionists," Tom Rachman; "The Ways of the Dead," Neely Tucker.

TV: Serialized drama more than anything else, preferably sci-fi or cop-type stuff: X-Files; Fringe; Breaking Bad; Weeds; Sopranos; Deadwood; Justified; The Wire; The Shield; Sons of Anarchy (the atrocious writing and general silliness of season 6 aside, as well as that interminable kidnapped baby/Irish SOA storyline in season 3); any Law & Order. I do like to laugh as well--I have every season of South Park, and knowing the complete Daria series is available makes me feel better about the world in general. (As far as unintentional comedy goes, I'll cop to having hate-watched the shit out of Dexter.) Also, too: Adventure Time; Shin Chan; Wonder Showzen; The Thick of It; House of Cards (MOLLY PARKER, YOU GUYS); and anything with Timothy Olyphant, Jeremy Davies, or William Fichtner (although "Crossing Lines" is pretty goddamn terrible). I'm also a sucker for those National Geographic or Discovery Channel shows of a theological or outer-space nature--when I had cable with DVR, I used to like to record space stuff so I'd always have something to watch when stoned. Munchies for the eyes, if you will.

Movies: Moon; Go; Heat; In Bruges; In the Loop; Ghostbusters; Donnie Darko; Die Hards 1 & 3; Alien; Aliens; South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut (more movies should have exchanges like, "Well, Philip, I hope you learned something through this whole experience." "I did, Terrance. I learned that you are a boner-biting, dick-fart fuckface."); The Last King of Scotland; Obsession (Visconti); Office Space; Super Troopers. And while I really really really don't like Forrest Gump, AT ALL, I do find the part where he takes off running, just for the hell of it, with no destination or goal in mind, and just does that for several years, incredibly appealing, and I wouldn't rule it out as a potential future endeavor.

Music:
I have a very specific idea of what I like and what I don't, although it's difficult to articulate it succinctly. Stuff that's noisy and melodic--think Pixies, Nirvana, Wavves, Thee Oh Sees, Deerhunter, Lotus Plaza, Pavement, Jesus and Mary Chain, Hot Snakes, FIDLAR, Velvet Underground, The Pack A.D., etc.--definitely falls into the "like" category. I'm also a sucker for (in no particular order): chick singers (Warpaint, Beach House, Cat Power, Cate LeBon, Mynabirds, St. Vincent); Neil Young's entire 1970s output, but especially 'Zuma' and 'Tonight's the Night'; anything by Elliott Smith, including the last Heatmiser record; Beck (especially Mutations and Sea Change...I have something of a sad bastard streak in my musical tastes); bands whose music critics describe as "angular" (Fugazi, Modest Mouse, Built to Spill), "cinematic" (Air, Grandaddy, Godspeed, Dirty Beaches), or "loose" (Kurt Vile, Jim O'Rourke-era Sonic Youth and Wilco); I have a soft spot for 90s indie rock in general, and Bedhead in particular; I also like this British band Radiohead ...you may have heard of them.

I tend to get obsessed with particular artists, songs, or albums, and will binge for days or weeks at a time on them. One of my favorite anecdotes is about Elliott Smith writing "Waltz #1" (from XO; it's perhaps the most gorgeously sad song in a catalog full of gorgeous, sad songs). The story goes that he took mushrooms, then holed up in an office with a keyboard and a tape recorder, listening to Elton John's "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" for eighteen hours. Straight. And JUST THE SONG, not the whole album. When he emerged the next day, he had written "Waltz 1." Not that I can relate to the process of writing music or claim to have any musical chops whatsoever; I just feel better knowing I'm not the only one who doesn't see anything inherently weird about listening to "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" on a continuous loop for eighteen straight hours. It's a really good song. (With or without the mushrooms.) I guess what I'm trying to say is that I have a tendency to fixate on songs or albums, and I can play them over and over and over again until I've essentially internalized them. Most recently this phenomenon manifested itself in the form of Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams," which I listened to about 72 times in a row when the deluxe edition of Rumours came out last year. I'm currently having a moment with Cate Le Bon's "Are You With Me Now?" and have been walking around singing it to myself for the past week. I can see how this could be somewhat annoying, sooooo....fair warning.

I can't stand Sleigh Bells. There, I said it. It's Jock Jams for Hipsters.

Food: Pretty much anything, but favorites include pastas and soups. If we're talking specific cuisines, again, I'll eat anything, but I'm particularly partial to Italian, Hungarian, and Thai. As far as my own cooking goes, I like projects. To that end, my tendencies run low and slow--think gulyas, bolognese, roasts, etc.--when time permits. When it does not, I gravitate toward things I could cook in my sleep, like puttanesca. Or I just call in an order to Toki Underground, watch TV for 20 minutes, then go around the corner to pick up my food and laugh at everybody waiting two hours to get a seat.

Also, too: PRETZEL M&Ms. Nom nom nom
The six things I could never do without
I don't want to be That Guy, but there isn't really anything I could never do without, unless you want to count stuff like toothpaste or oxygen. But what the hell, I'll play:
- Immersion blender. I like to puree things. The model I have is the bee's knees, but, sadly, no longer on the market. I would seriously have to consider saving it first in a fire. Sorry, family and/or housemates.
- My bike. Bethany gets me where I need to go. She's the anti-Red Line.
- The pork cheek ramen add-on at Toki Underground. SWOON. The road to my heart is paved with pork products of all kinds, but it's the cheek that is truly the apple of my eye. I could go on indefinitely like this, waxing rhapsodic about the most delectable bits of porcine anatomy, but I'll stop here, before I mix my metaphors to the extent that I've inadvertently written a Thomas Friedman column.
- Ice cream. While the way to my heart is very often through my stomach (see above), I don't really have much of a sweet tooth. I cannot be swayed by pie or cupcakes or by baked goods generally, unless they've got weed in them. But I will never turn down ice cream. When I visit home on holidays, I can never tell if I'm happier to see my parents or to see a Dairy Queen. OK, that's not true--I actually can tell. It's the Dairy Queen. (Yes, I am aware that what Dairy Queen sells is technically "ice milk." SHUT UP.)
- Books. Half the reason I've stayed put in my day job as long as I have is continuous access to a steady stream of new, and more importantly, free reading material. In physical form. I have a Kindle, but I'm not ready to abandon print just yet.
- Monday evening long-distance run. It gets my head straight and sets the tone for the week ahead. I honestly look forward to it all day at work like 8-year-old me anticipated Christmas.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Recipes. How to make a comfortable living making and selling meatballs. Why there isn't a Dairy Queen in DC proper. How often a week it's appropriate to get takeout from Toki Underground. Whether or not Jeremy Davies and James Mercer were separated at birth. How to get out of work obligations. The logistics of a polygamous relationship with all four members of Warpaint. Relatedly, how one goes about breaking into the (presumably) exciting field of male groupiedom. Those Big Bite hot dog-flavored potato chips from 7-11. (Seriously, have you tried them? Two words, my potential friend: Game Changer.) Related thought: whether 7-11's R&D department will one day produce complementary ketchup, mustard, relish, and sauerkraut flavors, thus rendering the hot dog itself obsolete.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I have a man-crush on Timothy Olyphant. I also harbor an inexplicable, irrational fear of bees. So if your favorite movie is "My Girl," it might not work out.
I’m looking for
  • Girls who like guys
  • Ages 24–40
  • Near me
  • Who are single
  • For new friends, long-term dating, short-term dating
You should message me if
- You make your own ice cream and you're willing to share.
- You can teach me something about Hungarian language or cooking. (Or better yet, both.)
- Your favorite Christmas movie is "Die Hard."
- You think "The Greatest Story Ever Told" refers not to the life of Jesus Christ as depicted by George Stevens, but to the story of the 1986 New York Mets as chronicled by Jeff Pearlman (but you aren't a Mets fan).
- Just kidding. It's OK if you're a Mets fan.
- You are Sigourney Weaver circa 1979-1986 and have time-traveled to the present.
- You are present-day Sigourney Weaver.
- All or none of the above apply. Surprise me.
- You've tried the best, and now you're ready to try the rest.