sleepingj
43 Houston, United States
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sleepingj
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My self-summary
I'm a very thoughtful loudmouth. I think too much and play too little. I'm hoping a new season will offer another opportunity to reverse that order.

I've been a "creative" for most of my 14 years in New York. I've got superior style acumen, but the fierce heart of a non-profiteer. I'm frequently fantasizing about perfect interior architecture and design whilst underpaying the bills. I'm a conflicted member of the bourgeoisie. I embody subprime debt. Fuck my pain away.

(2015 Edit: Uh, after 14 years in NYC, I relocated to Houston. Culture shock much? I need new friends. Don't be basic binary.)
What I’m doing with my life
Is this my mid-life crisis? I "evaded" the recession by returning to university, and now that I'm done, we're in for a double dip. What a bummer.
I’m really good at
Sunburning, seeing the details, ignoring instruction and discovering the source of that bad smell.
The first things people usually notice about me
Another beard with glasses.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
So so so so many. Talking about and comparing personal taste feels awfully high school-ish, but for the sake of conversation starters:

David Foster Wallace, Margaret Atwood, Alain de Botton, Angela Carter, David Rakoff, Strunk & White, Fran Lebowitz, Dorothy Parker, Susan Sontag, Oscar Wilde, Claude Chabrol, Agnes Varda, Albert & David Maysles, Sans Soleil, Wings of Desire, Pedro Almodovar, Michael Haneke, David Lynch, If . . . , Stanley Kubrick, Louis Malle, Mike Leigh, John Waters, Peter Sellers and Elliott Gould, Prime Suspect, Twin Peaks, Soap, thirtysomething, Breaking Bad, Drag Race, Bill Callahan, Harry Nilsson, Tjutuna, the whole Madchester/Summer of Love '88 scene cause I was there with great hair, same with late 60s-70s prog and Krautrock except I wasn't, Fuck Buttons, Elvis Costello, The Horrors, vintage Elton and McCartney, and too many labels to mention.

Food. I love it and refuse to prepare it. I eat twice daily yet do dishes thrice. WTF? Just feed me; I'm hungry. (Edit: I'm now totally into preparing.)
The six things I could never do without
Cold brewed coffee, bodies of water, crisp cotton sheets, sense memory, bj's and toilets.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Carpal tunnel syndrome and which item I last ate that's making my farts so awful.

(Since writing these previous paragraphs, I'm humbled to see thousands of nuestros hermanos occupying the streets across our planet and humanly illustrating some of the very things I've been obsessing over for years. Can we come together?)

Also, the "price we pay," window coverings, getting around the "no pets" clause of my lease, fatherhood, what _____ looks like naked, and various techniques for upgrading all of the things I already possess, including letting them go.
On a typical Friday night I am
waiting for Sunday morning.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
Secretly sensitive former bucktoothed fatty still learning not to judge. Can we keep that private?
You should message me if
I get paroled.
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