32 Los Angeles, United States
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My self-summary
My life revolves around movies and books and good conversation.

Hence, I fucking hate Los Angeles.
What I’m doing with my life
I am a big obnoxious jewy fuck from the land of big obnoxious jewy fucks aka new york and I make far more money than I probably should writing dumb things for those entitled fuckfaces in the movie industry who foolishly think the party is never going to end
I’m really good at
Listen: I moved here for a great job that pays the kind of money where I could retire comfortably even in this hell-fucked neo-nazi bullshit storm this country has turned into.

But for now, I have to endure the minimum next five years in this shithole city for idiots. This is the worst place I've ever been. It smells terrible. No one can drive. Everyone has the vocabulary of a dim child. People are obsessed with hair, with how thin they are, with what car they drive. I'm tired of it. I've been here nine fucking months and I want to either die or run over everyone I have a conversation with. I go to bars and what are people talking about? What movie they're hopelessly trying to get into. I go to restaurants and what are people talking about? What movie, what scene, what show they're hopelessly trying to get into? It's a lifeless monoculture self-perpetuating a fake glamour.

And I know! I know it's so cliche for a transplant, especially from New York to think these things. But it's true. It's exactly how I feel. I feel like I've wandered into a sprawling mess operated by idiots, for children, designed by the truly insane.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
I have a giant tattoo of Roy Batty and I once drank with Mads Mikklesen (boy, he can really knock them back, that Hannibal)
The six things I could never do without
"I drink to make other people more interesting."
- Ernest Hemingway
You should message me if
if you're a good conversationalist, if you have ambitions beyond this tired city