You really want my biography? Can I just cut and paste the shit I put on my dating site profile? Fine, I'm doing that.

I once coined the most offensive interjection in the world, not to be mean, just as a kind of semiotic exercise. I'm not going to type it here.

I think a funny way to answer the phone would be, "Safe house! . . . Oh, shit . . ."

I like art deco buildings and Rust Belt cities. I think the world misses Bill Hicks more than it will ever know. I grow some of the stuff I eat. The beer I order will not impress you. I swear. A lot. I lived in Brooklyn, New York, most my adult life. I dig this song. I don't feel jealousy. I like rainy days. Guys in big animal kabuki suits doing normal workaday stuff will never not be funny to me. Ayn Rand can blow me in Macy's window. If I lived under one of those Shakespearean kings, I would've been one of the guys plotting to kill him ALL the time because, dude, shut up for like two seconds.

I have this weird thing where I feel younger than I am and do shit kind of accordingly. I am not a fan of ties, schedules, propriety or ascribing gravitas to or wasting stress on bourgeois wank. I seek comedy fairly relentlessly and sometimes find zen in a pint glass. I don't know if you'd call this positive outlook or gross delusion — though the former seems a bit off because, pending a heavily-lobbied-against Great Leap Forward, I think the species is pretty likely doomed. The upside of that, if you can call it that, is, it doesn't leave you much choice other than to do shit to undoom it. Or be a dick, I guess, but, in a Buddhistic sense, that's not really a choice, is it?

I am at my most ambitious a guerrilla in a revolution of common sense that began when monkeymen first figured out they each could kill a deer and live another week or they could all surround a mastodon and live through the winter. I am amenable to discussing most anything except that which claims monopoly on Truth and thus seeks to end discourse. Dogma is not only anathema to society and ideas, it is goddamn boring.

Sadly, as in so much of this fake fucking economy and contrived culture, marketed distractions get in the way of sustenance. I'll have the rapid-fire snark-laced conversation, please, with sides of cocktails and lowered inhibitions. While I have no illusion of us as princes and princesses, this does not mean I don't value kinetic, meaningful experience of and with other people — I'll take a ton of that, raw, cooked, salad-spun, deliriously mad, sweat-lathered and spent. I'd simply prefer to be done with taking all this shit so goddamn seriously and ramming it into templates and just go see a kickass band and close down the bar and not want to stop talking once we do. I want that conversation. The one that feels like it can only end properly in making out.