| 1000 words | | Musings | | Catharsis | |
Hi. This is me. Hoorah.
Anyway, this is just a little site I set up so that all you crazy people that I meet can get to know me a little better. Hmmm.. where should I start?
In the words of Dr. Evil, "The details of my life are quite inconsequential... Very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlesly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insulent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I recieved my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum...it's breathtaking- I suggest you try it."
MY PASSIONS...
.. include but are not limited to: art, English, anarchy, nihilism, punk rock, rugby, college football, music, playing guitar, bad poetry, good poetry, religion, feminism, CCGs, underwear shopping, food, alcohol, engaging in intelligent discussion, writing, Tolkien, sex, walking around my house naked when no one else is home, pretending I can cook, doing the stupid cute things that make people feel special, kissing, taking classes simply because I have a big crush on the professor, spinach and artichoke dip, peanut M&Ms, sleep... I'll stop now because this list could take up the rest of this page.
"In our country, true teams rarely exist ... social barriers and personal ambitions have reduced athletes to dissolute cliques or individuals thrown together for mutual profit ... Yet these rugby players with their muddied, cracked bodies, are struggling to hold onto a sense of humanity that we in America have lost and are unlikely to regain. The game may only be to move a ball forward on a dirt field, but the task can be accomplished with an unshackled joy and its memories will be a permanent delight. The women and men who play on that rugby field are more alive than too many of us will ever be. The foolish emptiness we think we perceive in their existence is only our own." -- Victor Cahn
"A witty saying proves nothing" - Voltaire
"He who hesitates is a damned fool." - Mae West
"First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win."-Mahatma Gandhi
"There is more stupidity than hydrogen in the universe, and it has a longer shelf life." - Frank Zappa
My Wishlist