68 St. Louis, United States
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My self-summary
Prefer Twain to Dostoyevsky. Prefer pine to oak. Prefer not to maintain that reason is to blame for everything. Prefer drawings to paintings. Prefer the absurdity of writing poems to the absurdity of not writing poems. Prefer, where love's concerned, nonspecific anniversaries that can be celebrated every day. Prefer the company of an amiable, good-hearted woman.

Went adventuring and saw the world early--took some chances, had more fun than I can tell here--so certain midlife yearnings aren't much of an issue for me. I'm an ex-academic, a writer and poet who paid for part of my education from work as a deck hand on Gulf tankers, where heavy labor shaped my shoulders, back and arms. Sought my fortune first in consulting and banking, now in marketing communications--which I enjoy. Sell selling to business for my bread. I'm a free thinking, practicing Unitarian--whatever that means. I read cookbooks for pleasure and am adventurous about food. Manage to stay fit, though my cooking habit keeps me working hard. I enjoy women for themselves and the great relief of their company. Value kindness more than anything and a tolerant, sympathetic imagination. Less inclined to hear myself talk than to listen in the pleasure of real conversation--which can be about anything. The surprises and discoveries of living, what we read what we learn. What we wish we knew better. Music--singing in a choir and playing (saxophones, clarinets--jazz and whatever my friends and I make up) are vital, dancing whenever I can. Steadfast in being at least serially monogamous, I prefer tenderness and patience in love. It is after all an art of discovery--endlessly interesting. I prefer, like Blake, to kiss the joy as it flies, thereby to taste of paradise.
What I’m doing with my life
I'm a word guy, make my living by them. But I also shape and publish them for my pleasure and yours (I hope).
I’m really good at
Crafting messages, as art, and as the stuff of commercial continuance. Playing jazz and less definable genres of improvised music on soprano saxophone and sister instruments.
The first things people usually notice about me
My height and heavy shoulders, the body of the linebacker and rugby player I used to be.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Monolithos, by Jack Gilbert (especially the poem "Don Giovanni On His Way To Hell") Unattainable Earth, by Czeslaw Milosc. The Bear, by William Faulkner. Moby Dick by Herman Melville. Why Is Sex Fun, by Jered Diamond. The list is too long.

Movies: The Treasure Of Sierra Madre, John Huston. Jules et Jim, by Truffaut. Smiles of a Summer Night, by Ingemar Bergman. The Third Man, by Carrol Reid. The 39 Steps by Alfred Hitchkock. La Strada, by Frederico Fellini. La Dolce Vita, also by Fellini.

Food and cooking are an important source of pleasure; I cook for recreation as well as sustenance. Creole and Italian, but really dig scratch cooking in almost any style.
The six things I could never do without
My saxophones (more than one but too f'kin' bad), Fake Books, my son, my dog, my copper bottomed saucepan, the companionship of a good woman (not necessarily in that order).
I spend a lot of time thinking about
The fact remains that consciousness, at best, is slippery and confounding, even when we adhere to a most rigorous investigation of conscious experience itself. Disciplined, reasoned, scientific questioning can only somewhat mitigate our more or less chronic confusion. Its processes have, after all, enabled our civilization to memorialize and protect many features of collective understanding, and it is this science of ours in particular that appears to give us as a community the most reliable purchase on the world that we are likely to ever have. Even so, despite all its refinements, science (especially, for example, when it plays at the edges of the known (and knowable), amid for example the quantum “perversity” of subatomic physics) is conducted—even using the clearest lenses we have of mathematical order and exactitude—by human beings whose minds remain awhirl and awash in the primitive being of our animal selves. We put on, wherever we can, the clearest glasses we can find to look into nature, then ask the best questions we can about what it is we see. I’m reminded of Howard Nemerov’s remark about the cleverness with which we design our conceptual constructions, that in the end, no matter how hard we try, our imaginary ponds continue to have real toads in them. Indeed, I would argue that these critters feed and thrive on the insects of randomness and wild uncertainty and they are often what give us the greatest thrill to be had in getting to know the world and ourselves.
On a typical Friday night I am
Used to play regularly with a trio: myself on reeds (mainly soprano sax, but also tenor sax, Bb and Alto Clarinet and flute) and would again. Still try to put together sessions with my friends; managed that last weekend. But late hours and the day job make it tough to play very late on a Friday.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
That I'm tired to death of Internet dating--not that it really is that. Would love to find good humored trust was something that came natural to people and honesty something freely offered. Too many people are justifiably afraid; America's a lot less friendly place than it used to be. Too many bigots, too many fools of the gods, too much greed. Life is too beautiful and rare to squander on vanity and anger. I'd rather play music and not talk. Rather make love and laugh in the joy of it.
You should message me if
You're prepared to communicate from your heart--or at least something other than ignorance and impulse.