40Los Angeles, United States
Join today
Find great matches with our advanced matching system!
Join today
Find great matches with our advanced matching system!
My self-summary
My favorite things: waking up at 6 A.M., high Sierras, crawling out of my tent, desperately making tea before my hands freeze off. The moment of understanding when the whole world breaks apart and reassembles itself along new lines. Bourbon. A perfect analogy. Things that are crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside. Brutal truth. Dancing! The way happy, sweaty girls smell. Coffee that tastes like sex feels. Imaginative, but precise, description. The look on a student's face when you piss them off enough that they actually start to *think for themselves*. Improv-cooking dinner parties with random ingredients. A well-placed fart.

*I'm polyamorous and in an open, long-term relationship.*
What I’m doing with my life
I teach philosophy. My dissertation was on moral and aesthetic disagreement and moral humility. Abstract: "A critique of moral fanaticism, or: Stop being so sure of yourself, dipshit."

I used to write about food for a newspaper. Now I write about food for academic publications. This was probably a downgrade.

Rock climbing, which is the most beautiful physical activity known to man. It's sort of like solving logic problems, with your body. It's like: yoga is classical music, and rock climbing is jazz.
I’m really good at
I was trying to describe, for a restaurant review, a Korean dish of short ribs that had been simmered in plum juice for 24 hours until it turned into a bowl of molten candied beef-love. I wrote, "It's like getting a blow job from a Care Bear." My editor refused to publish it. But here's the thing: *I was right*.
The first things people usually notice about me
I'm too excited about something I've just discovered.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Food: everything, but my current obsession is pani puri, which is Indian street food: little fried eggshells of bread that you have to quickly fill with cold mint chutney and then throw it in your mouth before it gets soggy and dissolves in your hand. It's a crunchy cool mint-water explosion. It's like a gazpacho hand grenade going off in your mouth.

Novels: Vonnegut, Dostoevsky, Bronte, Melville, Austen, Pynchon, Chekhov, Connell, Musil, Kafka, O'Connor, DFW, Lynda Barry, Proust.

Poetry: Emily Dickinson, Tu Fu, Elizabeth Bishop, Walt Whitman, Issa. Marianne Moore, Basho, Rilke, Akhmatova, Berryman. Pain, jangliness, clarity.

Music: Velvet Underground. Brian Eno. Thelonious Monk. Beethoven. Miles Davis. P-funk. Wu Tang Clan. John Fahey. Django Reinhardt. Lee Scratch Perry. The modern salvation of music is in the hands of Joanna Newsom, Diplo, and Ghostface Killah. Right now: Jamie XX and Vince Staples.
Six things I could never do without
1. Novelty.
2. Epiphanies.
3. Bluntness.
4. Food with guts and soul.
5. Conversations late into the night, on the track of something greater...
6. Absorption.
On a typical Friday night I am
Newest obsession: the Improv Cooking Dinner Party Game! Everybody brings a random ingredient. We make up dinner from what shows up. Last time, I made spinach salad wilted in bacon, topped with grilled duck breast and blueberry-honey sauce. With fennel croutons.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
The first time I was naked in front of a girl, it was my high school girlfriend, who was German (like, actually German, so you have to imagine a slight, soft, sweet German accent for the rest of this story), and I nervously took my pants off, and she looked up, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Is that what a normal penis looks like? Because my father's is so much larger."
You should message me if
You like exploring - cities, mountains, ideas - and talking about it afterwards in excessively fine detail. Also: if you write funny haiku. Sarcastic haiku is sexy. You like going outside and getting filthy. You appreciate a beautiful insult, whichever end of it you're on.

**I am in an open relationship and looking for genuine connection of any sort.**
The two of us