I'm a mass of contradictions, like most interesting people. I search for something called "home" while in a constant state of wanderlust. I am close to my family and friends yet prefer to live alone. I'm fairly kinky yet I want something with depth.
Whoops, I'm supposed to be selling myself here, right?
Okay, let's trot out the buzzwords: Intuitive, sharp wit, bathe daily, solvent, sane, and I never listen to jazz fusion.
Oh, yes, what am I doing with my life. At 20 I was on my way towards a career in Journalism (considering the state of the business I'm glad that didn't take). Now I work with books and photographs.
Now I'm just pondering writing the Great American Novel. No, it's not a blog. Call me old-fashioned, with a blissful ignorance of the realities of the publishing industry.
Wait, that's a lost skill. I did once make a fine plant holder/dust gatherer.
It usually makes people think I must be 6'2". I'm not 6'2".
The Stories of John Cheever, La Dolce Vita, Nick Drake, Kumamoto oysters, The World's Most Dangerous Places, Mulholland Drive, Ramones, etouffee, Audubon's Birds of America, Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolff, Eric Satie, fresh cherry gelato from Giolitti in Rome, Nine and a Half Weeks (yes, it's a book, and it's as great as the film is cheesy and mediocre), Jules and Jim, Neko Case, salad (yes, salad!) Luc Sante's Lowlife, Rosemary's Baby, Velvet Underground, ravioli with fresh cheese and sage.
Cindy Sherman, Weegee, Al Green, The Clash, pastrami.
This is a silly question. Let's let the Rolling Stones answer it about as well as anyone could:
"Love and Hope and Sex and Dreams".
1. Slamming back PBRs at a bar where I can't hear what you're saying.
2. Complaining about my job and my week to a casual acquaintance
3 Reorganizing my spice rack.
I might be:
1. Sharing dinner with friends.
2. Watching surrealist films from the Thirties in the back room of a film warehouse in the Mission .
3. Meeting you for an evening of slap and tickle and sushi.
No, you want the real dirt. Well, then you'd better get to know me. No one wants to meet a man too free and easy with his neuroses. Or his proclivities,