Listen, I hate these About Me sections. I loathe them. I hold an utter contempt for them all the way in the deepest recesses of my heart. Like Walt Whitman said, I contain multitudes. But I know they are ‘oh, so, necessary’. Or so everyone says. Please excuse my sarcasm.

With that being said, hello, phantom reader of my personal history. I hope that cynical introduction didn’t scare you off. Let me try vulnerability. I am the oldest of three boys, more fitting perhaps, the zookeeper to two hyenas. I’ve traveled the world, from Iceland to Paris, to the Western plains of our very own US of A; I’m in love with Joan Didion, terrified of Otessa Moshfegh, and captivated by Kerouac’s dogmatic esctacies and paranoias; and, I’m a poet, a potter, a halfway-decent cook, a pawn and a king (whistle the tune if you get the fragmented Sinatra reference).

But, this as far as I’ll go. If you’d like to know more about me, check out my poetry, or, send me a letter. Remember those?