UnwashedMass
“helloi, polloi”
gender:
male
age:
29
city:
Vancouver
country:
Canada
occupation:
freelance writing, event coordination, accordion
religion:
see below
politics:
anarcho-syndicalist
- Last great book I read:
- Tibor Fischer's "The Thought Gang" was pretty swank, though no Gravity's Rainbow. (after all, /what is?/) Still needing to get to work on this year's Interactive Fiction competition entries, though abstractly I'll recommend of the genre without hesitation Shade, Mercy and Pick up the Phone Booth and Aisle. Presently working on Rushkoff's "Ecstasy Club", though I suspect E-sheep.com's "The Guy I Almost Was" told this story better.
- 3 things I want to do before I die:
- spend
* a month without speaking,
* a year without a home, and
* an itinerant decade with no fixed address wandering the world.
- Last thing I experienced that impressed or amazed me:
- Cycling through a graveyard shortcut (no shit, that's where the urban planners laid down the bike route) in the hours just before dawn, a thick fog collects and accrues in the hollows between hillocks, endowing beards with dew and reminding us in our very bones that this is the best any of us can hope for -- to someday contribute to a well-nourished lawn.
- Tell us a story:
- Last night I had an out-of-body experience. Rising buoyantly among coils of my silver cord, I looked down upon us in placid sleep, curled around each other like common weeds choking a garden path. It was then that the profound tragedy of it all struck me - My God, what is she doing with such an ugly, ugly man?
But then something changed. You made a bestial noise, my darling, and a convulsion racked your prone form. Your tongue protruded gracelessly and your eyelids fluttered, revealing intently crossed eyes. So it was that I saw that perhaps you were as ugly as I.
Satisfied by this resolution of the perceived inequity, I smiled and sank down back into my body. Some hours later, as dawn singed the edges of the sky, you rolled over and farted at me.
- What you should know about me:
- I like to produce small pieces of written spoor and leave them in a myriad of places where others might find them, in magazines on websites and in the postboxes of strangers. From them people might get some misguided idea of the kind of animal that might leave these traces behind and visualise a taller, handsomer and more striking beast than I. (It's not my fault I shit above my class.)
As an act of self-hate, in order to utterly preclude the chances of my ever getting laid again I have twisted my 15 years of classical piano training away from the geeky composition of video game-style chiptunes, instead towards the full-blown ubergeeky pursuit that is public performance of the accordion.
When failing to indulge in either of these pursuits, I can usually be found rolling along on my bicycle, pondering my ongoing undermining of my own self-interests.
- More about what I am looking for:
- to keep it simple: open-minded critical thinker unafraid to play and not unwilling to create
you'd be surprised and, I think, disappointed, at what an enormous segment of the population this rules out.
- My tags:
- absurdism activism adventure anomie archy b0nk baking bitterness cacophony chindogu christiania collaboration collage comix composting conversation cycling dada detournement diy droplifting dystopias empowerment emulation eunoia extimacy failure fluxx hermitage hoedown impromptu insomnia koyaanisqatsi loneliness maakies mailart manifestos mehitabel metaphysics mixtapes momentum org oulipo participation picnics potential psychogeography puns racter regret santarchy schopenhauer spontaneity squatting textmode tracking typewriters understanding vaudeville walking wordplay zardoz
drinks:
not a stranger to it
smokes:
no
drugs:
no
| looking for: |
 friendship friendshipage range: 25-35 |