47Philadelphia, United States
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My self-summary
I'm an entrepreneur and self-employed by choice, a freelance writer by accident, a political activist by compulsion, and hypercaffeinated by sunset. Coffee beans regard me as a minor and dangerous deity in their religious rituals. I'm opinionated and well-informed on many obscure topics, but I just smile and nod rhythmically when the topic turns to sports or celebrities. I allow my grumpy side to show to friends, but I'm always kind to tourists and small dogs. I carry enough gadgets on me that I'm bulletproof from certain angles. I will travel anywhere for the skimpiest of reasons.
What I’m doing with my life
I'm a computer guy to earn my keep, a freelance writer, and an activist on a few dozen issues. I bounce back and forth between calling Washington and Philadelphia home, and every once in a while I hang in a new city for a few weeks for the hell of it.
I’m really good at
Poker. Clever computer hacks. Writing. Sounding intelligent on random topics with only the barest understanding of the details. Laughing at myself when I *completely* screw that up. Accidental Rube Goldberg solutions to extremely simple problems.
The first things people usually notice about me
I'd like to say it's my witty demeanor and flair, but more likely it's the hat.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
An incomplete list. Books: Stardust, by Neil Gaiman. Connecticut Yankee, by Mark Twain. Getting Things Done, by David Allen. Harrington on Hold 'Em, by Dan Harrington.

Movies: It's a Wonderful Life, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Singin' in the Rain, The Philadelphia Story, Lawrence of Arabia, The Matrix, Young Frankenstein, The Producers (original).

Music: both Mozart and bad Europop 80s dance remixes are in heavy rotation on my iTunes. The next four tracks on my most-played list: I-Nine, 7 Days of Lonely; Bowling for Soup, Friends Like You; Julie Murphy, Operator; Frenzal Rhomb: You Need A Friend.
Six things I could never do without
1. Truth in advertising: my MacBook. Aside from making my living on it, it's got all of my tunes, a bunch of movies and TV shows I want to watch, and it's where most of my friends live. (By which I mean they're scattered around the world and we talk via email. Not the imaginary little digital men. I had a falling out with them some years back.)

2. Starbucks. Jeez, just look at my username. It's not just the coffee, it's a convenient work environment wherever I happen to be. I'm on a first-name basis with baristas in several states.

3. A pack of smokes and a vat of coffee. Yes, I'm addicted to nicotine and caffeine. Yes, I know it's not good for me. We all have our ways of bumping up our endorphin production, and these are some of mine. And I am quite able to temporarily forego the above when given sufficient incentive, such as an endorphin-inducing nonsmoking romantic interest who prefers her date not smelling like an ashtray.

4. One good book, with another to follow when that's done.

5. One good friend, randomly chosen from a large rotating pool, for good conversation on a semiregular basis.

6. My gray, beat-to-hell fedora. I prefer to think that it makes me look like Cary Grant. I'm kidding myself.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Quantum physics, dark matter, and the Drake equation. Why people don't think airplanes are frakking miraculous. Emergent consciousness, materialism vs. dualism, and theorizing a non-dualist afterlife for a novel I'm writing. What my personal role should be as a progressive activist. Why Steven Moffat is allowed to roam freely even though it's so damn long between Sherlock and Doctor Who seasons.
On a typical Friday night I am
Surprised it's Friday. Self-employed, so I don't notice until the restaurants start getting more crowded.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
If I had any talent, the musical role I'd most like to play is the part of Florence in a cross-gender production of Chess. Yes, I'm straight. But she's got such great songs, and Freddy is just a wanker.

Mid-July 2010: I am horrified to read on the OKC blog that men add two inches to their height. So, the complete truth: I am *not* 5'5". Would I lie and say 5'7"? Hell, might as well say 6'2", and then only meet women in poorly lit places which are stilt-friendly. "He was a really nice guy, but *damn*, what was up with his ankles?"

January 2011: *second* edit, as I apparently am giving the impression that I only like children in a nice Béarnaise sauce with a side of leafy greens. I expect to have kids someday, but that's increasingly up in the air. I get along fine with my friends' kids, who are uniformly intelligent and sweet and well-mannered. Until three minutes ago, I said "dislikes children" in the sense of "likes dogs, unfond of cats, not thrilled with screaming brats being ignored by their parents." I have changed this to "—", which means now most of you will assume I have three kids living in a trailer in North Carolina.
You should message me if
You're the kind of person who has already decided whether you're interested in striking up a conversation with me. You are reading this primarily to look for last minute reasons to decide I'm actually a well-disguised ogre, or for additional conversational tidbits.

If you are short, cute, highly energetic, and completely incompatible with me, then you are probably my type based on past experience.
The two of us