As with any sort of report; as this is a facsimile of, I outline the general direction of my profile with this short thesis of what I followed while writing for this site:
It should be lengthy enough to seem substantial yet concise enough to feel breezy. It should be serious, but with a slight wink. It should lay out a new course of direction, but one that could change direction at any moment. If you must mention facts and figures you must not do so directly. The general thrust should remain embedded in one's mind forever but specific words should be forgotten the moment they are heard. It should contain nothing that can't be confirmed or denied.
That being said: Please enjoy!
I havent really gotten any replies so I'm going to just write what I want. I wear black most of the time. I used to own a trenchcoat. I love my beard and probably wont cut it till I can wear it like a scarf. I am an artist but prefer to be called a media engineer. I like sushi but have trouble trying to manipulate the chopsticks with my clumsy american fingers. I'm very into art and I can spend hours by myself painting.
If you want to see my art you'll have to ask very nicely.
It was suggested to me by one of my friends that I have at least one serious part to this profile. Here are the things about me that I guess a prospective significant other would like to know: I'm good at cooking (best recipes: red chile pecan pie, cheesecake, alfredo sauce, butter cake, fondue, and homeade focaccia bread), Love to hike, good at playing with children and animals, can paint you a picture, and Im not as bad as I make myself out to be. And I should also put that I'm looking for a longterm relationship. I believe in loyalty and trust.
Just for an extra level of sarcasm I will now write about myself as if I was the complete opposite of who I am now:
My name is Raul. I have a huge home; a mansion really! It's in the suburbs of chicago. I hold many important positions around town such as lead toaster at the local gentleman's club and honorary pastor at my episcopal church. My real job though is playing the stock market, I'm currently invested in many high-end ventures that keep me busy most of the time; that's why I'm always on my cell phone or using my blackberry bold 9000. I have no time for games emotionally. If I want what I see, I'll come right out and take it. I try to carry around at least one thousand dollars all the time; I dont really worry about it, money's no problem with me. All the wives I've had at one time or another have been super models (I fully suggest having one of those wrapped around your arm when you walk into a trendy bar, right guys? Ha Ha). Don't really have many hobbies. I'm a jogger, work out pretty often; otherwise I guess I would just be watching football or news on the TV. Maybe I'm riding around in my corvette. Just depends on the day I guess. I can tell you what I wont be doing; I certainly wont be reading, reading is such a bore, only artists read; and trust me: I HATE artists; those filthy bohemian creatures, makes me cringe every time I think about it.
I even get upset when I see one of my many children finger painting. Sometimes I've had to slap crayolas out of their hand so I would'nt have to watch them exercising their creative urges. Enough about my hate for art.
Some of my personal heroes are Tony Robbins, Billy Graham, and Bill Oreilly.
I have a fine knowledge of wines and more specifically what caviars they go the best with. I never drink water unless it's from a glacier in Greenland.
I want a relationship based on How I want you to be. The woman I'm looking for has to be submissive, take orders without question, and will speak only when spoken to (any geisha's out there?). The body dimension of the woman I want to find will have to be 32 24 32, anything more or less than that will just make me Ill every time I look at you, and I just can't handle that. Thanks for reading!!!
Yeah, I'm the complete opposite. Also, it's fair to probably tell everyone out there that artists age a little differently than everyone else. An artist year is about half of a normal persons year. You might be wondering why that is: An artist is not respected until they pull a Basquiat and dies of a heroin overdose at the age of 27 after living a fast paced, explosive, bipolar, and interesting sort of life (it's the only way an artist is going to get famous!). That being said; technically my age is 27, but artistically it's about 54. What this means for the prospective girlfriend is no less than 2 birthdays per year and perhaps 3 if I've handled a lot of paints.
Now; as if I was talking to a psychiatrist!
(The patient sits down. I turn down the lights)
psy: So, tell me what's bothering you.
Patient: I don't know. I'm wondering why I put myself into this situation, you know? Why I even put anything on this site about myself?
psy: Why did you?
Patient: Perhaps boredom, boredom mixed with loneliness I guess. But you know what happens when you try to write about yourself on the internet, how everything that is you in real life is distilled down into a couple fragments of what you think other people want to hear. You try to perfect yourself on the internet, but I have flaws, a lot of flaws.
psy: Expand on that idea, you know; about your flaws.
Patient: I'm an introvert, that's never helped. Think about it; you start your life in crowded classrooms full of screaming students. It's an introvert's nightmare. I've lived my life in my mind so my social skill's are kind of lacking.
psy: So you've never had friends?
Patient: If I need any I paint them. It's the only thing I know how to do.
psy: That's a good joke! You are joking, right?
Patient: Kind of.
psy: Lets get back on track, shall we? Why do you think you've always been shy? (Patient seems upset that this question was asked)
Patient: I don't know, Ive never thought of it. I'm one of those people that look at other couples kissing, or holding hands or something and instead of trying to find a girlfriend I kind of just let it get me down, you know? A glass half empty kind of guy. I know I need to change that attitude, but it's hard. (Patient is visibly distressed)
psy: Why do you let it get you down?
Patient: Probably it's mostly jealousy, every guy must feel that though. I keep telling myself "Tomorrow" it never comes around, and then you just give up, you know? Maybe it's because women are still a little intimidating to me. As Borges said: "One can always sense the presence of the ocean or women." Women are like that. I feel like I don't know what I'm doing. They're presences are so immense. No man knows the safest spot to build a dock for his boat on an island he knows nothing about, even less about what the weather's going to be like when he sets out into that ocean with his shoddy little boat he's constructed out of banana leaves. I don't know what would happen if it starts to leak midway out. Would I just watch the leak get bigger? Would I try to plug it? I dont know. I guess what I need is a storm to rush me out to sea so quick that there's no hope of reaching shore again, a sea that I could happily drown in. I guess that's love right?
psy: That was quite the analogy; has anybody ever told you that you have quite a way with words?
Patient: Not recently (laughing). Thank you.
psy: Well; I think that's a good stopping point for our fist session. How about a week from now?
Patient: Sounds good doctor. I'll see you next week.
Postscript: The patient seems reluctant to talk about his feelings, must find out why. At least I got him talking though.
I can already see the tendencies for at least a dozen disorders he may be dealing with. His self deprecating humor seems to be hiding a large inferiority complex (next session I will try to draw this out more). The intelligence he exhibits might also be a factor that exacerbates his tendency to shyness and a need to depend on his art so much. An interesting case nonetheless.
Lately Ive had this suspicion that I may not be real at all. The people that I do tend to hang around all have such detailed histories that it makes me believe my more undeveloped memories may just be implanted in me. If anybody in this world is real, it probably isn't me. I'm a spectre, an undeveloped ghost in this world full of intertwining personalities, a vaporous mist seen most often floating between the snow white, gold leaved pillars of society only to disperse and disappear when approached by people that don't know me.
"reason is the illusion of reality" so when you're reading this I would prefer you to be completely unreasonable. Send me emails that say I'm completely crazy; that I'm utterly illogical. Your karma will be rewarded for it and we may become friends.
"My existence is from you, and your appearance is through me.
If I had not appeared would you have existed?"
Think on that for a while.
I am somnambupossiblistic, amazingly astute, and powered by love.