22penguin profile picture

22penguin

I am here for Friends and Networking

About Me

The rain? Well, my final scene in this rainy city (confused by drowsy naps) will not be less a completion of a dream for formality's sake—nor will it be a bouquet of remembrance for the maudlin blustery world that past over my cloud covered bed. No, my final scene will be a brief respite before a recurring storm of emotions, abrasions, buffetings and repellents brought on by the cool splash of a single drop upon my cheek. Wet, and no longer imprisoned by a biological sleep; the rain will leave me forever in a dream—abutted only by circumstances that I'll be too sleepy too notice.

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I also host a 3 Hour Song Writing Group, which meets twice a week. Each night we write, practice and record a song from scratch in three hours. I usually play bass and several other insturments on each track. ________________________________________________________

My Interests

4ad, 69 love songs, aberdeen, albert camus, alpha, andre breton, anton chekhov, autumn sonata, blanc, bleu, breaking the waves, cocteau twins, cross-processing, d. h. lawrence, dead alive, e-10, franz kafka, getz / gilberto, gil evans, godspeed you black emperor!, hard boiled, heidi berry, herbie mann, his name is alive, jan svankmajer, jean-pierre jeunet, jim o'rourke, john edgar wideman, joni mitchell, kristin hersh, krzysztof kieslowski, lars von trier, macintosh, milan kundera, mojave 3, my bloody valentine, octopus, penguins, piano magic, picnic at hangingrock, pixies, pointilism, punch drunk love, ray bradbury, rebecca gates, red house painters, rouge, sister my sister, sketches of spain, slowdive, stina nordenstam, street of crocodiles, sx-70, tarwater, the brothers quay, the chocolate war, the fabulous baker boys, the rules of attraction, this mortal coil, three colours, throwing muses, tobias, un cour en hiver, vladimir nabokov, z for zachariah

I'd like to meet:

I'd like to meet a woman who never hams up her drunkenness. Clenched and brooding, churning with both rage and self-loathing, her persona would be that of the most realistic lushes ever to reach the internet. Far from the lurching, wild-eyed maniac of internet cliche—she would simultaneously asks for my collusion and condemnation, she would be a furtive, cunning animal who grows more sullen (not more sympathetic) and more infuriating (not more lovable) the more alcohol she consumes. Even as her journey to my bedroom challenges her to rediscover her basic decency, intelligence, and responsibility—as well as to discover the love that she had lost so long ago. She would always retain the ambiguity of a woman for whom sobriety is both a fond hope and a potentially unbearable torment.

For the record I don't really have a baby with taramisu loves goo