32Toledo, United States
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My self-summary
Naïve Ohioan, seeking Lord Henry Wotton-caliber corruption.
What I’m doing with my life
I'm pretty determined not to ever have an actual, you know, "career," for the most part because I get embarrassed when my doting Jewish mother brags about me. Also, I feel I look like a jerk when required to wear a suit.

I curate exhibitions in a contemporary art gallery, where everyday I am surrounded by magnificent expressions of creativity that comment insightfully on the human condition. As for my own magnificent expression? I have an ever-expanding collection of rejection letters from the submissions desk of The New Yorker. I should probably take up decoupage.
I’m really good at
- Parsing
- Pointing out interesting things as I'm walking down the street.
- Helping you think of that word that's on the tip of your tongue.
- Figuring out exactly what you should be doing with your life, while never EVER taking my own advice.
- Cooking delightful, pre-Latte Amanda Hesser-style meals.
- Sharing my nuanced music, movie, and literary preferences with people who are curious about those things.
The first things people usually notice about me
Probably my lack of height. Definitely the (authentic) jewfro. Grammar and syntax. Indeterminable ethnicity.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Books: Ancient Evenings (Mailer). The Master and Margarita (Bulgakov). Roberto Bolaño's Savage Detectives and 2666. Anything by Márquez, Dorothy Parker, Alan Hollinghurst, or Jennifer Egan. Franzen, sometimes. The Romanian by Bruce Benderson. Cloud Atlas, The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet, or anything else by David Mitchell. Haruki Murakami, whether he's being sexy (Norwegian Wood) or SciFi (1Q84). Heinrich Böll's Group Portrait with Lady. Nigella Lawson's cookbooks. BUTT Magazine.

Movies: The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant. Gossford Park. Lost in Translation. Everything by Jim Jarmusch. Almost everything by Wes Anderson. The moody/broody side of French cinema (my favorites being Eric Rohmer, François Ozon, Xavier Dolan [ed. note: he's Quebecois, but whatever.], and Jean-Pierre Jeunet). Bruce LaBruce's films always make me laugh. The Cremaster Cycle + Drawing Restraint 9. Every art documentary (I studied art history, with a focus in the musculature of Matthew Barney's torso).

Shows: I'm really bad at television. There is this awful trashfire show on Netflix that's like a Japanese version of MTV's Real World that I find oddly fascinating. For the wrong reasons.

Music: I like beachy, chill-out Brazilian tunes from the 60s, Southeast Asian pop music from the 70s, and psychedelic African guitar bands from the 80s. Basically, anything released on the Sublime Frequencies label, especially Omar Souleyman. I love Mulatu Astatke and those Schema Records Italian jazz samplers. I want to approach jazz from a more intellectual point of view, but I need a teacher - maybe you? Also, I really like Björk. And of course I listen to a lot of Pitchfork-approved indie bands, but it's difficult to talk about them without coming off as that obnoxious jerk who wants to whip out his playlist to compare who has more 8.0+

Food: All Southeast Asian food. Anything that borrows from the Western Sahara region or Morocco. If I can't travel someplace I'd like to, cooking from that place is the next best thing. And I deeply understand the impulse to connect what you eat and what you feel in a personal and convoluted way. It appeals to my passive-aggressive desire to communicate in symbolism rather than words.
Six things I could never do without
- My friends
- Interesting things to interpret
- Weekends off
- Summertime in Toledo
- Yoga
- Piles of good fiction
I spend a lot of time thinking about
I think a lot about what's for dinner. I try to reconstruct recipes of restaurant food from the memory of how it tasted. I often wonder if they make that shirt in an extra-small. I think about how I really should have written down that hilarious thing s/he said, so we can laugh about it later. I stress out about all the books I've yet to read and worry that I'm forgetting the nuances of the ones I've read and loved. There's a fair chance I'll imagine you in your underwear.
On a typical Friday night I am
It's been said that I "would attend the opening of an envelope," but in reality, I am most likely on a sofa somewhere, sharing wine and music and witticisms with friends or making some kind of no-frills, ethnic meal for them. The thought of possibly being hoodwinked into conversation with a 22-year-old has made me all too aware of my advanced age and the social aversions that come with it; that's to say, I avoid a lot of bars. I assure you that my steadfast refusal to visit a certain establishment on Adams Street has nothing to do with the fact that I cannot dance.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I'm terrified of being too divulge-y on the Internet. Á la Jessa: "I'm not on Facebook." Not so much because I'm uncomfortable having my every move and thought documented, catalogued, and sold for profit; but because I worry about boring acquaintances with the minutia of my hour-to-hour existence as much as they've bored me. It's turning us into narcissistic monsters.

Also: I deeply resent that modern life requires me to drive and to wear shoes.

I do not have a British accent.
You should message me if
you enjoy sitting next to that person at a party who knows everything bad about everyone.
The two of us