32Brooklyn, United States
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My self-summary
"I know, that obscure as I am, my name is making a considerable deal of fuss in the world. I can't tell why it is, nor in what it is to end. Go where I will, everybody seems anxious to get a peep at me ... There must therefore be something in me, or about me, that attracts attention, which is even mysterious to myself."
-- David Crockett

I am Genteel, Nostalgic, and Cheerily Chartreuse.

"People are their most beautiful when they're at work. It's their concentration that makes them beautiful." --Edgar Degas
What I’m doing with my life
"un artiste ne peut rien faire débraillés" --la brillanté Jane Austen.
I’m really good at
english madrigals, contact improv, piano forte, handwritten correspondence, microbrews, lite-brite.
The first things people usually notice about me
smirk, scruff, joviality, collection of vintage KISS tour t-shirts.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
BOOKS: A Seperate Peace, To Kill A Mockingbird, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, The Halloween Tree, Persuasian, Grendel, Gone With The Wind, A Narrative of the Life of David Crockett by Himself, Old Yeller, Dracula, Utopia, The Ghost Belonged to Me.

MOVIES:Young Mr. Lincoln, Anne of the Thousand Days, Born Yesterday, The Worst Witch, A Catered Affair, Into the Wild, Stars in My Crown, Steel Magnolias, The Sound of Music, The Heiress, E.T., Pocketful of Miracles, The Bad Seed.

TV SHOWS: Are You Being Served?, Six Feet Under, Salute Your Shorts, Masterpiece Classic.

MUSIC: Carrie: The Musical, The Weepies, Seldom Scene, Electric Light Orchestra, The Infamous Stringdusters, Rufus Wainwright, Tchaikovsky, Dowland, Tallis, Byrd, Bach.
Six things I could never do without
Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour, Anne of Cleves, Katherine Howard, Catherine Parr.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
...bettering myself as an artist and individual.

and Billy Collins.

The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

On a typical Friday night I am
engaging in experimental cooking, Cocktail-making, conducting a sing-along with friends while accompanying on the ivories, board-gaming, bar/restaurant exploration.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I feel very comfortable in overalls and cowboy boots.
Perhaps too comfortable.
You should message me if
you have ever solved a Rubik's.
you play a musical instrument.
you can make a good marchpane.
You played college football.
The two of us