36Edinburgh, United Kingdom
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My self-summary
I'm the one in the High-Vis Jacket in this:

(I feel it's important that your first impression of me reassures you that I can't act. It suggests honesty.)

Having graduated with a useless PhD (it's in literature; Ye Gods, POSTMODERN literature) I now toil in a bank. This is not as highly paid as you might think. But IS as dull. Let's not talk about it.

I read a lot. I watch films. I socialize with friends. These things are probably so generic they can be safely assumed anyway, but it's not as if there's a word limit to this.

A while ago, when bored, I made this:!/album.php?aid=53961&id=731862656

and also this:!/album.php?aid=157489&id=731862656
What I’m doing with my life
At the risk of advertising an aspirational new scent marketed as a lifestyle choice, "...I'm living it!". Which means a bit of this and that, including hawking papers round journals, reading, gaming, enjoying people.
I’m really good at
Pretentious bullshit, cynical nit-picking and the rolling of cigarettes. One of these three will lead to my death, either by lung cancer or stabbing.

The jury is out on my annoyingly incessant puns, and on my singing. There's only one song I willingly perform sober, and was pleased to find, when looking up the lyrics online (so I could quickly translate them into Finnish) that it is to be sung in a "deep, slightly irritating voice". That said, I was once told by a victim that "You said you couldn't sing, but I'm a professional singer and you can. I'm also tripping on mushrooms."
The first things people usually notice about me
I really don't know. Apparently, I like to lean on things, which someone noticed once, and told me. But they probably noticed other things first.

I have a voice made for radio-based erotica (an unusually specific niche to be hit on randomly by multiple people). It has also been compared to Mark Gatiss in Crooked House, but I think this is a tad too complementary (which, given that Gatiss was playing a sinister necromancer, speaks volumes).

Too many people have said, in affectionate hindsight, "I can't believe I was afraid of you". This keeps happening. I don't know why. Thankfully, they seem to stop.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Books. Hmm. As a child I was averse to physical exertion, fresh air and sunlight. Thankfully, I didn't attempt to justify this through wearing vampire teeth and too much eyeliner (...cough...for long...), but through applied literacy. Which may not work either. As an adult – if that dread beast is what I have in fact become – I handed over several years in return for two pieces of paper with "in English Literature" written on them somewhere.

I find, to quote Marx, that “Outside of a dog, man’s best friend is a Book…Inside of a dog, its too dark to read.” The same is true of the kindle.

Or, as the late lamented St Kurt – he’s smiling on us from heaven now, you know – explained: “A book is an arrangement of twenty-six phonetic symbols, ten numerals, and about eight punctuation marks, and people can cast their eyes over these and envision the eruption of Mount Vesuvius or the Battle of Waterloo.”

That’s not quite the quote I was wanting, but I’m roughly 200 miles away from my Vonnegut collection and it’s the best google can give me at short notice. I suspect the variant on this theme I’m thinking of appears in TimeQuake…

Anyways. The upshot is, I’ve read a lot of books. And, ignoring Martin Amis – a tactic I cannot recommend too highly – I generally come away with a favorable impression.
So The following ain’t anything like complete: Kurt Vonnegut...And Neil Gaiman...And Kim Newman...Robert Anton Wilson,Ian Banks, Alan Moore, Chuck Palahniuk, Thomas Pynchon, A.L. Kennedy,Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett, Louise Welsh, Luis De Bernieres, Tom Robbins, Lawrence Block, [D M Thomas]],Jonathan Coe, Stephen Fry,Ross McDonald, John MacDonald,Angela Carter, Robert Rankin, [Flann O'Brien]], Frank Kuppner,Douglas Adams, Robert B. Parker, Russell Hoban, Bo Fowler, Garth Ennis, Ken Campbell ...

It was in tribute Ken Campbell's Makbed and Wol Wontok that this profile used to be in Melanesian Pidgin, but I changed it back for obvious reasons. Among his last work was a piece involving firing paint-enemas directly into the audience. This, thankfully, is not that sort of website.

Basically, is it a film? Then I might enjoy it. Like the inspired but potentially confusing switches between arrangement by actor, director,genre, and era at Alphabet Video in Marchmont, I could list Peter Cushing, Donald Pleasance, Alastair Sim,Peter Lorre , Jimmy Stewart , David Lynch, Powell & Pressburger, Orson Welles,The Coen Brothers Jeunet, Film Noir, Seventies Horror, Depressingly hip nineties arthouse etc.


From about-twelve to about-seventeen, I lived for David Bowie. From seventeen to twenty-one, I lived for The Smiths. Aged twenty-one, I discovered The Birthday Party. From there, I mellowed to The Bad Seeds. None of these waves displaced their successors, only added a frighteningly intense new layer to them. Other big favourites include Barry Adamson, Amanda Palmer and Alabama Three. Otherwise, anything much.

(d) Cheese. It's why I ain't Vegan, people. (Milk, the cows can keep).
Six things I could never do without
See (a), (b), (c) and (d) above. And two slices of bread for the (d).
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Where have I seen that actor before? Where the rent's coming from? Exactly why Fredric Jameson discounts the notion of achieved cognitive mapping in postmodernity. What Lost Highway Means. How on earth the ecosystem in PITCH BLACK can be self-sustaining (I have a theory, though...).
On a typical Friday night I am
Last Friday, I was being crucified. Actually true. Though not typical.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
Kimodo dragons are capable of parthenogenisis. Hardly private - though the dragons themselves kept it quiet for some time - but it's good to share. And I promise to tell you nothing about the genitalia of Hyeanas unless you ask.
You should message me if
You're bored: I've had some fine times grow out of the boredom of others. You find me strangely fascinating, if only as some bizarre specimen or test subject for a social experiment. You desperately need an EU passport and are happy to live a lie. Your finger slips. You have oracular wisdom, guru-like advice or bad jokes to share. You work for the Samaritans, and there's a new pro-active policy of messaging out.
The two of us