Anxiety-riddled, paranoid, funk junky. I don't really know much about me, so this is kinda weird: I used to climb rocks in Humboldt County. I love shooting firearms by moonlight. I am allergic to bird, seriously. I have a strongly fueled hatred for the entire state of Oregon. I once had a mohawk that was over a foot tall. I use to be a plumber's assistant. I now live in a co-op in a Berkeley, five years ago, I was homeless. I have played bass in a few bands. I used to want to be a ninja, then Spiderman, then a rock star, and now I am back to a ninja, or journalist. I went to Burning Man five years ago, and still talk about it with my friends who just got back, acting like I was just there. I used to think pounding a pint of whisky, and jumping into mosh pits was the cat's pajamas. I am currently trying to publish a children's book. I am still mad about my Nintendo 64 being stolen. I have an uncanny ability to look people straight in the eyes and not hear a word they say. And I am also really bad at remembering names and sometimes faces, but, I can remember every state capital of the U.S. and have been able to since I was twelve. I accidentaly lived in a crack house for two months. I purposely lived in a teepee for three months. One time I cut myself with a butter knife, sober. I can't think of anything else right now, if you think of something, post it.
A nice quote from the Buk-
That was the troble with being a writer, that was the main trouble-leisure time, excessive leisure time . You had to wait around for the buildup until you could write and while you were waiting you went crazy , and while you were going crazy you drank and the more you drank the crazier you got. There was nothing glorious about the life of a writer or the life of a drinker.
Bukowski-
another nice one from the good doctor:
"If you're going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you're going to be locked up."
-HST
