35Chicago, United States
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My self-summary
Note: I just realized my inbox has been full for the last couple weeks. So, I apologize if any of you tried to email me and couldn't get through. I've emptied it of several old, old notifications, so hopefully it should stay open for a while.

Recovering Dmitri Fyodorovich Karamazov.

The best word to describe most of my fantasies is Pre-Raphaelite. (Meaning I want to frolic sensually and sexually in idealized idyllic fields with a woman who is a knight of some sort.)

I'm not sure where to put this next part, but it's definitely something that needs to be said, so I'll go ahead and say it here: I'm in a polyamorous relationship with a partner who I live with. The most serious *romantic* thing I would be looking for with anyone on here would be something like a good friend who I could make out with, say sweet things to, and maybe write some poems about. Sex is still very much an "...I dunno." My partner and I enjoy both finding people for one on one encounters as well as friends who'd like to come play with both of us together. In addition to an interest in making make out/frolic sensually and/or sexually in idealized idyllic field friends I'm also interested in making new friends in the more traditional sense of the word.

I list myself as 'bi', but the most accurate term I could think of would not be 'bi', or 'queer', but simply 'not straight.' I can't stand most straight men, I can't stand the way they talk about women, the things they joke about, I don't care about the things they care about, I'm not afraid of the things they're afraid of, and I DON'T want to be counted as one of them. So, I'm not straight. (Oh, and I've had sex with men before and all that, so at the very least, that alone quells any nagging feelings I have about my 'right' to claim not-straightness.) (Also, for a perhaps better illustration of what I'm trying to get across here, see Morrissey's new song "I'm Not a Man. Actually, just see Morrissey in general.)
What I’m doing with my life
Convalescing. Mindfulnessing. Nurturing the recently resuscitated writer within me, strangled in its prime by monogamy.
I’m really good at
Writing. Hunting down and assimilating all the information there is to be hunted down and assimilated about a subject that fascinates me. Retaining information. Sincerity. Genuineness. Authenticity. (these last three to a fault, I sometimes think-- no, I know: particularly in places like work, or just anywhere that you're supposed to say something other than what is on your mind, other than what you truly feel) Honesty. When I'm not caught up in my own troubles I find myself feeling a level of compassion that borders on being painful, but which I wouldn't think of asking to be rid of, no matter how painful it can be. (but, as I said: when I'm not caught up in my own troubles. I spend far too much time caught up in my troubles, and not nearly enough time caught up in compassion. If I allow it to be, compassion can be what jerks me out of my troubles, can be the way up out of them. I need to let that happen. I need to let that happen lots and lots and lots more.)
The first things people usually notice about me
I'll go with what I get comments on: My hair. It's very thick and curly, and apparently very fun to play with (which is fine with me, as it's very fun to have it played with). My smell is something people seem to notice a lot. In a good way. Often when I see people after a long, long time away from them one of the first things they'll say is, "I missed your smell." But that's something I don't think people notice they've noticed until after being away from it.
As for what else, I really don't know. Let me know, if you end up seeing me.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food

and this:
(it gives me a sensation more intense than any orgasm, leaves me huddled on the floor, howling softly to myself (feeling like a little wounded wolf-cub) (but also feeling like the whole Universe is my mother, and the whole Universe is inside me), tears of joy, utter, overwhelming joy, streaming from my eyes, down into the carpet)

and then here, with subtitles, and a younger conductor:

(I look at the faces of the performers, and I can see that yes, some of them know that what they are communicating through their performance is the very voice of God.) (And I think of how I can only believe or not believe there is a God (and if it's anything, for me it's Goddess, not God), but I can never know, in the way I know I have hands and a face and breath, that I can never know for sure-- but I know that this happened, and that whether or not there is a God, there is this, and it is more than enough-- that all the Divinity I am looking for, all the Divinity I could ever want, is contained within this sound, and then it spreads out into everything.)

There are lots of books I like. There is lots of music I like. Between these two, a large part of what is most important to me is covered. But... I almost feel sacrilegious putting it all out there. Like I'm dragging something very precious through the mud. Ask me, if you'd like to know. I love talking about it. Just...Yes, I'd rather tell you if you asked me than put a whole list out here.
Six things I could never do without
At one point or another in life I've either deprived myself or been deprived of most things people think necessary for life. Give me a plot of land that's my own, measuring a yard square, and I can be happy for Eternity: an awareness of this fact that goes beyond the purely intellectual knowledge of its trueness is something I cannot afford to do without.

...but maybe this isn't true. Maybe...yes, it could be possible that "people" is the only 'thing' I could never do without.
I'm afraid of needing anything, of admitting there's something I could never do without. This is for various reasons that are plain as day once you know me and know some of my story (see above: 'or been deprived').
But.... Ok, I'll admit it:


I could never do without people.

And music.

If I had to choose between one or the other, I'd be hard put to decide. I spend more time with music than I do with people.

Strike all of that: the only thing I could not live without is that thing dogs do where they kind of stomp around in a circle before lying down.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Mahler. Beethoven. The Divine. Writing. Feminism. Morrissey. My dog, Manfred. How to improve my mental health. Cigarettes and pipe tobacco.
On a typical Friday night I am
Walking my dog, then either going out to read under a tree and draw some or paint, or else at home listening to a Mahler symphony (I try to listen to at least one a day), or some late Beethoven (his last five string quartets take me to another world entirely).
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I suffer from ptsd, generalized anxiety, and the worst case of major depression I've ever encountered in anyone. However, I'm also the hardest working person I know when it comes to establishing mental wellness. So, as a result, it sort of balances out, and I'm more functional than many people I know with far less acute mental health symptoms than my own.
Given different peoples level of comfortability with different sorts of information, I understand that many would find this a distasteful amount of information to reveal in such an open venue. Much of my decision to reveal things like this here, in my profile, in the first thing anyone sees about me, is that I have no desire whatsoever to spend a single second more of my life engaging in the subtle, often unconscious, often well-meaning, manipulation of trying to make myself appear more attractive than I actually am, or different from how I actually am, and thus spending the entire time I know someone trying to avoid revealing 'unattractive' qualities about myself. The information about my mental illness is the information I feel the strongest instinct to want to hide, and what I fear most will be a point of contention. Putting this out here so openly, perhaps shamelessly, alerts others to qualities they may potentially find unacceptable early on and saves us all trouble.

--Christ, that was a needlessly cerebral passage. I do that often. :P
You should message me if
You have an open heart.
You identify as a feminist.
You find my candor refreshing rather than offputting.
And... I don't know, if you find me attractive and would like to get to know me better. Or, if you don't find me attractive, but would still like to get to know me better :P

Conversation starter: what is your happiest/favorite memory? What is the work of art/literature/music/film that has moved you the most/means the most to you, and why?
If you could have a romantic relationship with any famous person, living or dead, who would it be? Why?
(bonus if you can guess what my only half-jesting one word/one name reply to all of those questions would be)

Also, if you have any input about something I've been churning over in my head a lot lately: I often find myself in the position of finding a woman who is a stranger, just someone I see on the bus or in the park or wherever, attractive (or as attractive as you can find somebody without talking to them, with only observing their appearance and the way they carry themselves, or maybe a book they are reading). However, I'm also aware that there is a lot I take for granted as a male, that there is a lot I simply haven't experienced in the way of what it must be like to be a woman in our culture, to probably feel stared at and sized up and what-have-you at most moments when out in public, to possibly find many men's approaches, or looks even, threatening. What I'm interested to hear is a female perspective about how I might, or IF I even might-- if it's even possible, I mean--, go about communicating with a woman who is a stranger in such a situation without making them feel uncomfortable, threatened, sized-up. I would enjoy reading any opinions any of you may have.
The two of us