secret identity

by practicalspactical

pulling stuff off the internets as I begin my jobsearch:

guess I can put it on here, nevertellanyone my real name, this is my supermanpage, hidden, locked away —

Hobbies and Interests: sleeping and dreaming, walking and talking, surprising myself, mind-altering amounts of television, chemicals, hanging with the cool kids in the contemporary art exhibits at major national museums, handicapping horse races, pondering possible alternate realities (where Clinton is a Dictator), the quest for the fountain of youth, the quest for the holy grail, the quest for a better mouse-trap, mouse-traps in general, the mad ones who burn like Roman Candles, Indie Rock Chicks, Hippie Chicks, Beautiful Women, Smart Women, good jokes, good stories, good books, something I haven’t seen before, forgetfulness

Favorite Books: Salinger, Kerouac, Joyce, Pynchon, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Calvino, John Barth, Hemingway, Tom Wolfe, Hunter S., Ginsberg, Brautigan, Bukowski

Favorite Movies: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Adaptation, Fight Club, Life of Brian, Bananas, Clockwork Orange, High Fidelity, Swingers, Zoolander, the Graduate, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Casablanca, Lawrence of Arabia, Chinatown, Lost in Translation

About me: the writer who does not write, guitar player, book reader, here he stands (he cannot do otherwise) a wanderer with a way, journeyman without a destination, storyteller, sage, webcrawler, websurfer, mediaeater – nicest guy at the party, no really,  I am – if I would I could – wanna write stories but I don’t even know any jokes, other than that one – no, I can’t even remember. I’ve lived just long enough that when I conjure up old memories they’re already tinged and played in this strange orange color that must the color of nostalgia, which is actually a word no one understands but means the strangeness of memory, that I once was there, but now am not, and that the me in the memory is the same me that remembers (perhaps – the jury is out, waiting in the wings, on that one); Dilemma – write now and live later? Live now and write later? Live now, write now, and die later? Everybody wants to live forever; I just wanna burn out fast and bright; Ryan Adams said that. Hack. My uncle once said “Don’t ever forget who you are or how you got here.” That’s not true. He never said anything like that.

Who I want to meet: Bob Dylan, Jack Kerouac, Jerry Garcia, Bill Clinton, Sofia Coppola, Scarlett Johanssen, Eleanor Roosevelt, Franklin Roosevelt, Helen of Troy, Odysseus, Moses, David, Jesus, Caesar, Pollock, Warhol, E.T., dinosaurs, the Universal Being at the Center of All Things, Mr. Hooper, He-Man, Optimus Prime, beautiful women, smart women, beautiful and smart women, jet-setters, a-listers, high-rollers, train-spotters, train-hoppers, gang-bangers, folk-singers, pill-poppers & needle-pushers (maybe not, maybe not) pot-smokers, gun-runners, moon-shiners, dolls and molls AND pole-vaulters, joy-riders, dope pushers, spin doctors, astronauts, dolphins, my great-great grandfather, my great-great grandchild, myself in a dark alley, the anima to my animus, crazy happy sad animals with thumbs, God on a down-town bus, the Flying Famous Mockingbird, the Ghost of Christmas Past.

(( and look at that — when it was written, our hero and Messiah, BHO, was not yet even born — hurrah, hurrah, for the unexpected surprises of the unknown tomorrows.))