(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:
and also this:
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."
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.
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).