I don't have a TV, I don't care about sports, material possessions, video games, or whatever stuff is currently streaming somewhere on the Internet. I do read a fair amount, from novels to science, ethics, and geopolitics (although in general I have no real interest in discussing geopolitics with anyone). I'm very well traveled, curious, and independent. I'm a leftist, atheist, and childfree by choice. I typically say what I mean and mean what I say, and expect the same from other people, it makes communication a lot easier. I'm kind of different and I'm fine with that. Otherwise I'm of the "live and let live" type and I'm warm and fuzzy in private. I have a thing for sarcasm, too
I'm not going to put a picture of myself on this web site because of my job and the fact that profiles here are fully public. I'm a very private person anyway. If you want to know, I'm fit enough to walk 20 miles just for fun, I have a head full of hair, and I wear a lot of black.
Looking for my equal.
I'm in the New York City area.
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Little Gothy has a black chicken pet.
It is very nice and plays the clarinet.
It wakes her up at dawn with a dramatic concerto
and gives her big eggs to make kuro-tamago.
But one dark evening Little Gothy comes back home
and the symphonic chicken for ever is gone.
A pile of black feathers is all that is left,
right next to a blooded and broken clarinet.
Little Gothy is profoundly disappointed,
but soon again her low spirits are lifted
when her mother walks out of the steamy kitchen
and says "No need for you to be so heartbroken.
I spent the afternoon preparing your favorite dish,
just have a slice of this delicious chicken quiche!"
Little Gothy has a black pet crocodile.
It is very nice and comes from the Nile.
It guards her at night while deeply she sleeps
always making sure she has the happiest dreams.
But one dark morning Little Gothy wakes up
and the poor crocodile has just been cut up.
All the entrails on the carpet are flowing
and its long black tail seems to be missing.
Little Gothy is profoundly disappointed,
but soon again her low spirits are lifted
when her father walks out of the garden shack
and says "I just made you a new school backpack.
It is made of thick leather tougher than a nail,
and it even comes with a long black tail!"
Little Gothy has a black pet elephant.
It is very nice and not at all arrogant.
It is so big its posterior reaches the patio
and its trunk sticks out of the bedroom window.
Little Gothy cannot reach the kitchen to make it food
and one dark evening the elephant is dead for good.
Little Gothy is profoundly disappointed,
but soon again her low spirits are lifted
when her brother peers down from the dark attic
and says "Let's tan the skin into some fabric.
The long tusks will make pillars strong as rock,
we use trunk and tail as ties and make a hammock!"
Little Gothy has a doll named Gothynette.
She is very nice with clothes colored jet.
She stays in the bedroom when Little Gothy goes out
and listens to goth music until she passes out.
But one dark morning Little Gothy comes back home
only to find out Gothynette to heaven is gone.
Her cold limp body hangs from a short rope,
and she left a poem explaining she had no hope.
"Every time you have a pet it always horribly dies,
I would rather die my way than have a bad surprise!"
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Consciousness as genetic defect.
Knowledge as chronic disease.
Awareness as agony.
Agency as placebo.
And yet somehow still alive.
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Freedom is the freedom to go out in public and frolic naked in the warm summer rain. If that is granted, all else follows. (With apologies to Eric Blair.)
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Hobbies: I am mostly interested in the extermination of the human species. The rest of the time I just think about pretty colors.
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Each of us has a private garden in which we lovingly water the dark flowers of our unspeakable thoughts. And then some of the flowers are carnivorous.
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Every morning I step outside, look at my fellow lesser-haired apes, and long for a thermonuclear holocaust.
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One doesn't truly know trees until one has spent a few years sweeping dead leaves all day long.
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Life is but a long agitation of the nerves. -- Emil Cioran
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Each of us is but a small wave bound to quietly vanish on some as yet unknown shore. Even the crabs won't care.
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The nights have turned orange, there is no silence left, and we are only biology.
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Feeling nicely antisocial this morning. Maybe I should bite someone's leg on my way to work.
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The whole world is going fat and middle class. The only struggle left is for meaning.
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minimalism
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Pulvis et umbra sumus -- Horace
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Things That Delight The Heart
The smile of a former lover turned friend and confidant.
The face of a woman who sings joyfully without looking at anything in particular.
The call of the koel in the distance before dawn.
A kitten chasing a grasshopper in a garden.
The smell of jasmine while walking at dusk in a quiet park.
The swishing sound of a long silk dress.
The vibration of the wind through a bamboo thicket.
