I am also a perennially unpublished science fiction writer. The validation of making it to print hardly matters anymore--I don't think I could stop if I wanted to.
In much the same fashion as a silly OKCupid test, this talent gives people the impression that I'm wiser than I really am.
I am a longtime friend of the Silent Barn http://www.silentbarn.org/. It's a DIY space in Bushwick that serves as a experimental music venue, theater, gallery, barbershop, record store, law firm, artists' residence, and hangout spot. It's like something out of a David Lynch dream sequence and there's really nowhere else like it.
I'm a familiar face in the New York chiptune scene (a lo-fi marriage between EDM and punk rock), and am no stranger to raging mosh pits and muggy secret basement venues.
I hang out in dive bars listening to aspiring singer-songwriters belt out their life stories over four chords on a steel string acoustic, unaware of their own talent, sincere and free in the mistaken understanding that no one is really listening. I hum Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" on the walk home.
I trade webcomics recommendations. I believe Mallory Ortberg is a national treasure. I have lost a once-strong faith in literary fiction (Julian Barnes and Haruki Murakami were my favorites). I love off-Broadway theater but off-Broadway theater doesn't love me. I go to poetry readings alone. I think Barthes makes excellent pillow talk.
I talk about dead video game studios the way blues men talk about their exes.
I don't do the wine, Netflix, and trivia night kind of life. It's not that I wouldn't enjoy them, it's that I am afraid of my own mortality.
Well-meaning people in high places doing awful things. The long lists of intersectional adjectives my politically radical friends string together to trick everyone into thinking that all compassionate people share the same enemies. (It's not working.)
The giddy, hopeful audacity of investing in love and/or family in a world that feels like it's going to teeter into full-blown dystopia any minute.
Checkin' my male privilege.