Some kind of weird creepy guy who sits around doing weird creepy things all day long.
Not polite and not normal.
I'm introverted and contemplative, lazy and clever. I'm a recluse and a hipster and a primate and a human, and I'm just trying to exist comfortably in a world teeming with unprepossessingly large spiders and moths.
It's inherently bizarre and somewhat alarming that I even exist. Wtf am I supposed to be doing here? Humans are apes that learned how to be pretentious, and I really do think in those terms most of the time. I feel disconnected from the baroque conceptual framework attending the prevailing culture's demands and norms.
I don't think any part of me is a soul or a god or chakras or a spiritual self, and the realness, the totalness and immediacy of my physical world induces me to love it with all my heart.
I drink vast heaps of coffee and process long hours of solitude. I'm a crazy cat gentleman, and I have absolutely no respect for any tradition, institution, profession or class other than sentient beings.
I'm subtle. It's never made quite explicit whether I'm a hero or one of the villains. But I'm going to be cool for my entire life, guaranteed.
I'm caught in that awkward transitional phase where you're too old to do gay porn but too young to sing the blues.
I deliver sandwiches for money, then I use the money to buy gas, then I use the gas to deliver sandwiches.
I spend my time educating myself, thinking about history, meditating, scheming, dreaming, chilling, deconstructing, complaining about society, attending haute soirees with my extensive network of cool friends, and envisioning colored squares.
I sing and play the guitar, and it's pretty decent. I do other art, and it's probably bad.
Perception, cognition, meta-cognition, analyzing phenomena, intellectual syncretism, introspection, logic, sex, singing, giving incredibly good relationship advice, narrative criticism, seeing the big picture. 3D Pinball for Windows - Space Cadet. Accusing people of being racist.
This one isn't a skill but I also have a pretty kickin' bod; I admire the nuanced litheness of my own physique. I kind of have a crush on myself.
A-minor, E-minor, F, and C.
Small, quick, and jammed full of ghosts.
"Nice veins." --Every nurse
Strangers are always giving me a kind of brief concerned look, like I'm probably fine but they think there might be a small chance I'm going to knife them.
I don't know, though, maybe all people just do that to each other. I do it to everyone. You never know who's going to knife you.
Jodorowski, horror, art, musicals, animation; I really enjoy old, bad cartoons.
Food: I'll eat basically whatever. Except green peppers.
I particularly like eating small, helpless creatures. Chickens, perhaps, or shrimp. It makes me feel as powerful as God. I've never eaten a rabbit, but I probably would.
I think eating meat is kind of unethical; these are sentient beings that know pain and fear. How would I feel if I got eaten? Terrible, that's how. Unless I ate myself -- then it would average out.
My individual cells.
My own death.
The historical relationship between humanity and gold.
The world's oldest living organisms.
What is the fundamental nature of reality?
How can we get rational people to understand the utility of compassion?
How can we elect leaders who are scientists and philosophers instead of lawyers, politicians and CEOs?
How can we move beyond nation-states?
What is my cat thinking right now?
What is it like to be my cat?
How can I become more like my cat?
Can I get away with naming my next cat "The Jews"?
"What is this guy doing?" --That's when I'm driving and the person in front of me is driving weird. I say it out loud to myself, too.
Sometimes I find that my thoughts are difficult to describe with words. They're like impressions, or complex and strange emotions -- The feelings corresponding directly to the conceptual distances existing invisibly between every element of a situation.
PT Cruisin' in my car, Bosie.
Reading through literally all of your public questions and judging you accordingly.