You know happy-go-lucky? I'm cranky-go-lucky. And I don't work in tech. Gasp! Startled glances!
I'm well traveled and well read, but mostly I lead the semi-solitary life of the gregarious misanthrope, a kind of paradoxical mixture of my deep dislike for crowds, participation, and community matched quite jarringly with an innate charisma that, despite the shit that comes out of my dumb jerk mouth, seems to function fairly well. I've very likable, despite the fact I sound like Malcolm Tucker sometimes.
Lived a handful of places; grew up in New York (always great), lived in Atlanta (amazing), Los Angeles (I hope that shithole burns down some day), London (utterly fucking wild) and learned strange lesson from them all. Been many things in my life, too -- teacher, writer, laborer, manager, sommelier, executive, but I'm yet to find the thing that gives me drive and meaning. My writing is integral to who I am, and yet utterly superfluous at the same time. My profession means little to me. All of my personal definition comes from my endless quest to keep intellectual refining myself, to further understand more and more complex systems and the outlying ontological modalities beyond those, to somehow push beyond the limits of this frail scrawny gelatinous shell of timid reflex and worthless repetitions of feeling into some new sense of knowledge.
So, mostly, I end up reading a ton of weird shit.
(I've always wanted to escape this useless paradigm of enforced stability and physicality. First day you can sign up to get put in a robot, I'm doing it. I don't care if it's a robot dog. Call me Mr. Fucking Cyberwoofles.)
Failing that, I have a large, colorful vocabulary and like most emotionally stunted manchildren produced in the mid-eighties, I speak fluent pop culture references with completely predictable aplomb.
(my taste in music is funk, opera [Tosca is muh jam], and classic hip-hop [I can't stand any of that underproduced Drake shit]. my taste in movies runs towards incredibly avant-garde stuff or intricate but very stupid action movies; I enjoy Hard Boiled as much as I enjoyed The Strange Colour Of Your Body's Tears, so forth. I read an enormous, almost unlikely amount, everything from Atwood to Banks to Cicero to DeLillo to...well let's skip to Zizek.)
But before we can get a fourth culture, our two existing cultures must modify their habits. First of all, the humanities must sincerely engage with the sciences. Henry James defined the writer as someone on whom nothing is lost; artists must heed his call and not ignore science’s inspiring descriptions of reality. Every humanist should read Nature.
At the same time, the sciences must recognize that their truths are not the only truths. No knowledge has a monopoly on knowledge. That simple idea will be the starting premise of any fourth culture. As Karl Popper, an eminent defender of science, wrote, 'It is imperative that we give up the idea of ultimate sources of knowledge, and admit that all knowledge is human; that it is mixed with our errors, our prejudices, our dreams, and our hopes; that all we can do is to grope for truth even though it is beyond our reach. There is no authority beyond the reach of criticism."
- Johan Lehrer
At least I don't swear at slow walkers (as much) anymore.
There's also the fact that I have what my friends allege is the "hot dad" look (which has been explained to me five different times in five different ways but seems to come down to being tall and wearing cardigans), but I really don't do well around children.
Then again, when I lived in England, they told me I dressed like Ron Kray. Everything is strange everywhere.
Or the fact my parents had my tested for autism five times. Five times. It was insulting after the third.
here's a quick breakdown:
books - yes
sports - no
movies - yes
giant outdoor concerts - no
dive bars - yes
open relationships - eh, I could give a shit
strange half hidden bookstores - yes
(also, I'm ethnically and culturally Jewish, but not religiously Jewish. spirituality is fucking dumb. philosophy is the way to go, not the narcissistic hope that some grand unifying specter of the universe will love us unconditionally.)
if you like them well dressed, blunt, devious, charming, absurd, caustic and endlessly strange, that'd be about the time to message me.
and if you happen to look good in glasses that will probably expedite my response.