Exact change only
You know what, just send me a like, I'll figure it out.
Give me a topic, I'll write you something.
[I’m still having a little trouble striking the right balance here.Critique, insults, or mindless praise are not just welcome, hell even invited, but practically obligatory.]
Know me by my works
Attempt n+1 (where n is an element of N)
Unlike most of the brethren I'm not here to get OKC to work well enough to accumulate notches. I just want it to work really well once a blue moon, no more often than it can be bothered to. So in actuality, do not answer my message unless something concrete you read here strikes you. I will ask.
[But really, even a quick look at the profiles shows that the brethren have been very poorly behaved. Nearly every woman on okc feels the need to have a paragraph or two, or three, spelling out in great detail what should be exceedingly obviously, DON’T BE A DICK.
But my mom brought me up just a little better than that. So I’m going to be on my best behavior, and circumspect as fuck. Goddamn polite even. Overpolite.
But this is OKC, and although at times it may seem like I’m just zombie trying to seek out the tastiest brains, if I’m talking to you here it’s because I read your profile and looked at your pictures and felt some sort of click. So yes, I think you’re attractive, you’re cute, sexy, choose your prefered adjective. But if what you really want to do is talk about cosmic evolution, or the Lascaux painters, or pretty much any intellectual or creative subject, I am very, very, down with that.]
First let me try to drive you away
Yes, I’m married.See below.
I maxed out OKCs “Less Wholesome” category.
I’m way less wholesome than average, the average on OKfuckingCupid. Consider that.
I was raised by a pack of wild beatniks and hippies, and the layer of civilization is thin on me.
I am deeply and profoundly weird. If people don’t at least sometimes stare at you disbelief because of the weird things you say and do, we’re not gonna be compatible. I will drive you insane. Then we’ll be compatible.
I do not care about sportsball. I don’t care you do, but I really don’t.
I am by no one’s definition a capital “A” adult. Nor do I have any desire to become one. In fact, when I call someone a “Man,” it’s pretty much always an insult. Unless it’s someone I really, really, respect who’s just not gonna get, or care why I say and think. Women I’m way more careful about, because it becomes a different insult, one I have no interest in giving. But even then, if you can hear that audible capital “W,” it’s an insult.
I despise luxury. I just can’t view it as anything but a self-centered waste of valuable resources, a seriously misguided set of priorities. Mind you I’m not talking about comfort, or having good stuff, and I’m really, really, not talking about good tools. I’m talking about ostentatious displays of wealth and status.
I call everything made of baryons “crap.” I strongly suspect everything else is crap too, but the baryons I’m sure of.
I do not have much money. It should be clear by now that the pursuit of wealth is not a big priority with me.
I really do not care for, or about most people. (Apparently nobody who knows me believes this. I've been told my "Darkness" is just a cover for beinf a fluffly kitten lover) Despite being unfailingly polite, I am not very nice. I have a disturbing lack of sympathy for the vast majority of the human race. There are exceptions of course, most notably the young, the sick, maybe some of the elderly, but I do not include myself or any other adult in the exceptions we've got it coming. Threatening animals around me, however, is effectively suicide. So if you like animals but consider the human race sketchy at best, we’re probably get along.
I’m big and I’m scary. Many people find me intimidating if not outright frightening. When I was about 12 or so mothers started crossing the street to avoid me and they never stopped. People lock their car doors while driving by. At 14 I reached my current height of 5’ 11-¾”. Currently (04/04/2016) cruising about 215 lbs. But everyone thinks I’m bigger. Add to that that I am permanently scruffy, have a lot of scars of one sort or the other, and somehow manage to always look like I just stepped out of a wind-tunnel and the result is that it takes a pretty good suit for me to look like anything but The Defendant.
I can be really irritating. When I launch into a new project and/or subject. I keep trying to tell everyone everything that I learn, which can be damn annoying if you just don’t care. On the flipside, I’m aware of this so it’s easy to get me to stop, or switch channels to something you care about. I know that I’m a know-it-all jackass, and boy howdy do I love someone who can consistently and correctly tell me when I’m just wrong.
For those not driven away yet
Referral on request. I am, as I said, married. And my wife is my best friend. She hasn't maintained an OKC profile in a while but I will gladly introduce her as she really is my best referral. On OKC we all have to make a lot of what are essentially unsubstantiated claims, so you know, a referral.
[some wife FAQs: she's an associate publisher, she attends BAGG religiously, she's an ex-worker in the industry, she plays tabletop games, and is both smarter and better looking than I am. She has a very, very full schedule, so whatever you're thinking you can knock it off. People who don't know me just don't understand why she keeps me around and has for 25 and some odd years. And that, that is the best reason to message me.]
What about the sex thing? First off, I consider the first rush of crush to be one of the greatest highs ever. Combined with the not-really-competitive one-upmanship of intelligent banter there is nothing better. This effect combined with sex that enhances it, that is “what I’m looking for,” the reason I’m OKC.
My kink has no structure. I feel no particular alignment to any faction of the kink community. I’m strong, I’m adaptive, and I’m creative.
I’m 1/23rd imaginary. Perhaps the best way to understand me is to know I have a number of mythological, fictional, and just plain unlikely ancestors, most notably:
Sherlock Holmes from whom I inherited both my amazing memory, and my truly astonishing social skills.
Leonardo Da Vinci from whom I gain both artistic abilities, and my inability to finish anything.
And the great patriarch of my clan, Odysseus, who gave me both great craftiness, and the ability to piss of just about any deity
In high school I used to move pianos and woodstoves and, hence was strong enough that even the asshole jocks thought twice before fucking with me without sufficient numbers on their side. They wanted me to play football but I wouldn’t, I hate sports. I’d rather read T.S. Eliot and take acid and make out with girls. I haven’t changed much in that regard.
I’ve tended to have fairly solid secondary relationships rather than a series of random hookups and, while I’m not necessarily looking for the former right now, and not averse to the latter under the right circumstances, what I’d really like to do is meet cool people (okay fine, cute girls), go to punk-rock shows and museums, and hang out for hours talking about books and music and quantum physics and Ancient Rome and other random weird shit. If that becomes something more, cool. If not, I’ll have added to my circle of weirdo friends, and that in and of itself is worth an awful lot.
Breaking things, twisting things, turning things upside-down.
Moving gracefully through life like a bull rocketing through a swirling ball of china shards and broken slivers of glass.
Leaving a trail of destruction.
Drinking way too much caffeine.
Still, somehow, not losing my temper.
And trying my best not to scare the fuck out of my students.
I've just entered the planning stages of what will be a huge project. Right now that largely means finding the names of various deities written in their native tongues, collecting obscure alphabets to completely misuse later, figuring out what I'm gonna call a steam-locomotive in Etruscan. Making huge list of symbols from every source possible.
Wondering just what the fuck it is that I'm watching.
That I'm making mental sketches of their gross anatomy while they talk and it's really creepy.
Movies: I don't know, what do you want to watch? I watch a lot of dumb movies. The exceptions are Memento, Dark City, Ink, John Dies at The End, The Usual Suspects, Odd Thomas, and other fuck-with-your-head fare.
Music: Old school punk rock, Gun Club, Joy Division, Pixies, Nine Pound Hammer, Nine Inch Nails, Tool, garage rock of all eras, Sam The Sham, loved old AC/DC because Bon Scott wrote hilarious songs, still listening to Led Zeppelin, blasting blues guitar, Butthole Surfers. . . I'm sure you can see a pattern here.
TV: I have a somewhat recent but serious affair with TV, I love the Doctor. I also love Supernatural despite their unwillingness to do any homework on the subject they are portraying (which is weird for me). I love Arrow and wonder if I'm the only one watching it. I'm also quite fond of Once Upon a Time, Grimm, Burn Notice, Psyche, The Mentalist. . .
Food: I'm an omnivore's omnivore. I'll eat pretty much antything, that doesn't in someway smell wrong to me. But really, food doesn't matter to me unless it's very, very good.
The Owl Maiden, the spider's mistress.
The Mouse Rider, broken tusk.
The Hanged Father, I know exactly where I left it.
The Earth-Shaker, stitchfaced venom licker.
The Adversary, the unthroned hier.
If you like things, by which I mean stuff.
You think I'm cute.