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"I am tall, and I think yelling is hilarious. Purportedly, I
am currently undergoing rigorous training in the field..."
More about Stephen
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Occupation:
Ignoring my own circadian rhythms, like a dumbhead
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Hobbies and Interests:
Feminism, the Casio SK-1, excesses of coffee, being a Dungeon Master, tape manipulation, snow, home recording, short fiction, Joyce Carol Oates, gender theory, Guild guitars, crossword puzzles, Achewood, cellos, Linux, not doing cocaine
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Favorite Books:
A Spy In The House Of Love, Life After God, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicles, Anna Karenina, Demonology, The Wizard of Oz series
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Favorite Movies:
The Passion of Joan of Arc, My Own Private Idaho, Happiness, The Royal Tenenbaums, Ator The Fighting Eagle
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Favorite Music:
Yo La Tengo, Talking Heads, Don Caballero, Xiu Xiu, Beat Happening, The Lack, The Microphones, Devo, Hum, others.
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Favorite TV Shows:
Twin Peaks, Mystery Science Theater 3000, Sifl and Olly, Home Movies, Pokemon
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About Me:
I am tall, and I think yelling is hilarious. Purportedly, I
am currently undergoing rigorous training in the field of
Creative Writing at UMass Amherst, but it is turning out
more like Existential Crisis Boot Camp, because my work
ethic was murdered years ago. Reclusivity is my Achilles
Heel, although I can be coerced out of my room with promises
of coffee (which now makes up at least 11% of my
bloodstream). Nothing I want to do in life will ever be
profitable, and I will probably starve to death by 25, so
you should probably meet me now, while there is time.
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Who I Want to Meet:
Someone who will kick me in the face; a curious spider
monkey with whom I can touch noses, gently; people who want
to run around Amherst and kick snow at SUVs; a Guild
Jetstar; Montreal (again); a face-kicking machine that I can
set up to kick me in the face; a Commodore 64.
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Stephen |
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prince valium.
so much space.
a famous musician or author or unicorn
or what, but take heed: you will see
this man on the cover of a magazine on
day. and that day will be sooner than
you think.
But he's a particularly exceptional
writer.
Someday in a distant land, unicorns
will bow to this prowess and make him
their lord. He will spend his days
eating delicious fuits, and drinking
completely pure water. After about two
weeks, he'll miss his coffee, and ask
to be returned to his dwelling so he
can continue being a hermit.
The unicorns, however, will lock him
away in an underground cell that
smells sort of like stale urine. He
will be forced to meet a new person
every day. After two weeks, he will
implode, leaving only his shoes. These
will be placed on an altar. Each blue
moon, a single unicorn will lose its
horn in sacrifice to his greatness.
The moral: When the unicorns take you,
go barefoot.
alternatively, a pair of rambunctious
three-year olds. what would I do
without my swiftybot? nothing that
could possibly be any fun...