This was my profile for OKCupid in 2011

This was my profile for OKCupid in 2011 at age 45 immediately after my best friend Vicki divorced me, and my best friend Munk died of fucking cancer.

My self-summary

I am an artist/musician who makes mistakes. Huge mistakes. One of them is being too human with people no matter who they are. Also, I tend to be too trusting, so please don't take advantage of me. :) Or you can... oh...and ask me anything...I'm an open book. I question whether I should be on here. I feel emotion too intensely and am a bit crazy that way. Not scary crazy.:P I need to allow so much loss to flow through me, though the notion of "feeling and releasing" is a mind fuck, especially when alone in bed at night when my mind fucks with me most. I have demons but doesn't everyone? Right? Right? (please say yes.) I know I'll succumb to these demons on occasion but I struggle not to.

What I’m doing with my life

Learning to let go. Making color choices. Meeting interesting people. Finding a space to paint. Getting to know LA after living in Austin for 10 years and Hoboken for 5 months. Laughing at this shit storm called life and deciding which way to paddle through the feces flood.

I’m really good at

Being a caregiver for best friends with cancer. Color. Painting. Rocking. Listening. Giving a shit. Kissing. Petting Kitties. Listening to Good Songs. Drinking. Adventure/Travel. Eating fish.

The first things people usually notice about me

My compassion. My silly hairiness. My goofy glasses. Maybe my dimples.

Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food

When Things Fall Apart. Invisible Monsters. Fight Club. Hell's Angels. The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. Even Cowgirls Get the Blues. White Boy Shuffle. Lolita. Once a Great Notion. The Hunger Games. Geek Love. The Life of Pi.

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. Apocalypse Now. Withnail and I. Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Fantastic Mr. Fox. Last of the Mohicans. Children of Men. The Deer Hunter. Leaving Las Vegas. Jesus Christ Superstar. The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Wings of Desire. The Pillow Book. Heathers. The Royal Tenenbaums. Fargo. American Beauty. Delicatessen. The Virgin Suicides. Me and You and Everyone We Know. Dirty Filthy Love. Amélie.

The Simpsons.

Punk Rock. Nick Cave. Johnny Cash. The Clash. old Bowie. Flipper. old Stones. Turbonegro. Belle & Sebastian. Bonnie "Prince" Billy. Calexico. Neko Case. Dean & Britta. Eels. Explosions in the Sky. The Feelies. 60s soul. Otis Redding. The Handsome Family. Riverboat Gamblers. Supersuckers. Jimmy Smith. Luna. Mojave 3. Okkervil River. Sparklehorse. Spoon. Buzzcocks. The Birthday Party. Gang of Four. Motörhead. New York Dolls. Pixies. The Ramones. Jonathan Richman. Sex Pistols. The Velvet Underground. Devo. The New Pornographers. Television. Metric. Grinderman. Patti Smith. Cat Power. Wes Montgomery. Ume. Zapata Sparrow. Bionic. The Hellacopters. Be Your Own Pet. Black Keys. The Black Angels. Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Minor Threat. X. Johnny Thunders. Television. T-Rex. The Stooges. The Murder City Devils. The Breeders. Death From Above 1979. The Jam. James Dead (toot). The Damned. etc.

Sushi. Bagels. Ravioli.

The six things I could never do without

Love. Hate. Sex. Death. Art. Beauty.

I spend a lot of time thinking about

Painting passionately. Seeing Cancer get Fucking Cured. Never having to worry about Money. Experiencing Long-term Love and Happiness. Not being Crazy. Living in the desert. Visiting Europe again. Living on a warm island. Writing songs passionately. Playing in a band again. Making A Difference. Leaving a Mark. Camping. Living in a Small Modern House with a Vista View that is Off The Grid. Helping people with Depression. Collecting nothing. Making a documentary. Drinking fine bourbon. Riding a motorcycle but thinking it's fucking insane in LA. Meditating Successfully. Having some sort of Faith in Humanity. Dying happy and not alone. Feeling Confident and Caring yet Worthless and Despondent. Feeling like a Fraud but knowing that there is some sort of Truth within that I hope one other Human during this life can see and find alluring. Wanting to Weep every day even though Beauty and Joy abound. How it might be to have a SugarMomma so I could paint without having to be concerned about Commercial Appeal:) Why kids seem so Damaged. Oral sex(oh giving...is that tacky to admit on here?).:P True love. My cats. etc.

On a typical Friday night I am

Nothing is typical anymore...but...

The most private thing I’m willing to admit

I despise onions and mint...and that I cry. There, I said it. Oh yea the sound of bare feet on shag carpet gives me the willies and people wearing flip flops in the city kinda nauseates me.

You should message me if

...you don't mind a "crash and burn" who is quite attached to his beard...and has a lil' bit o' baggage. Ohhh scary. And if you are Creative, Spontaneous, Curious, Warm, Affectionate, Sensual, Humorous, Passionate, Possess Self-Esteem Without Self Importance, are Forgiving, are Kind - To me and yourself, and you are Patient...or fuck all of it and you simply want to.

My Brother Was Ruined

My family had just moved to a new town and we, my brother and I, still didn’t have any friends or know any other kids to play with. We were young kids; perhaps 5 and 6, and we loved to ride around on our cool new bicycles. My bright red bike had a bell that I loved to ring to tell people to get out of my way. Joe, my brother, had a dark green bike that had knobby tires and a blazing orange flag on a bendy pole attached to his banana seat. If you had seen us, you’d have thought we were just silly kids having fun in the sun riding in circles around and around the block. We thought we were cool and that everyone should get out of our way.
The community pool was down at the end of the block and everyone from the town was there cooling off on this hot summer day. Kids were running around chasing each other poolside, big splashes were erupting from the water and adults were showing off their saggy boobs and big bottoms. Screams of delight were heard after every splash and the occasional lifeguard whistle reminded us that some kids tended to be cruel in the pool. We were trying to show off on our bikes and attract the attention of other kids our age so that we could make some friends. Joe was popping wheelies and I was ringing my bell. No one at the pool seemed to care or notice.
For some strange reason my brother, who had just bought a bag of pretty new marbles with his allowance, thought it was a good idea or cool for some reason to ride around that day with one of those marbles in his mouth. I could see the yellow and purple swirled marble clenched between his front teeth every time I passed him as we circled around the block. The effect of the summer sun catching the brilliance of this marble glinting from Joe's mouth made me think that he was a superhero or a magician. Every time I would pass him, the expression on his face looked like the Cheshire cat flashing his toothpaste smile. I thought I was cool, but I knew he was cooler.
So when I came around the block to find him stopped right in front of the community pool fence no longer wearing his broad flashy grin my heart jumped, and I knew something was wrong. I yelled to him as I desperately hurried to ride to his side. He must not have heard me call to him over the sounds coming from the pool area, because he just stood there straddling his bike, feet on the ground with a look of shock on his face. Nearly crashing into his bike, I came skidding to a stop, breathlessly asking him, “Joe, what’s wrong?”
“I swallowed it,” he blankly replied.
“What? You swallowed what?” I screeched.
“I swallowed my marble,” he said with an unblinking far off stare.
Shock, fear, panic and sadness ran through me like a lighting bolt. The world felt suddenly over. Nothing would ever be the same again. My big brother had swallowed a marble. I believed in that split second with all of my heart that he could never be the person that he was, that my hero Joe was ruined. Upon coming to that irrational five year old’s conclusion my heart burst into my throat and animal-like sound exploded from my lungs.
“I WANT A NEW BROTHER!” I wailed at the sky.
Undoubtedly, every person at the pool sure noticed us then.

Betwixt and Between

Fund was a monster. She never gave anything to anybody.

When small things were noticed or not noticed, Fund would most often care less about the larger picture that was associated with these small things. She found herself drawn to any person or place by the obscure details and not the vast panorama. Her gift was to see these details and care about them so much that it hurt. She ached with a desire to know the green that made the water. She ached with a distress to know that the green did not make the water. The longer she looked, the less she saw, and the more she wondered about herself.

A world spinning and spinning, Fund stands on the edge of the inlet marked with waving grasses with yellow tufted seedheads. Unwieldy and weighty, the slender stalks bear the heads with the resignation of a servant. This is a world in motion all around Fund as she is fast asleep on her feet day dreaming, she is rigid in her stance – a wide-awake open-eyed living corpse. It must be the salty air on her unblinking eyes that makes pure water flow down the valley of the nose and cheek, making its way past the western inlet of the mouth, over the tiny hill of a chin, finally falling off the edge of the world. Servants lift their heads to the rain of tears and the spinning sky only to taste the salt.

Fund tried to figure out what her purpose was in this world. To her, it is something that is all consuming. You have to take space to think about the next step and assess what you’ve been doing…take a step back. Read what you’ve done and try to make sense of its purpose in the world. Try and understand why you do what you do for the sake of humanity and yourself. But she felt that her purpose might be too small. She enjoyed being appreciated. She enjoyed being hurt and called names. She felt she lost her ability to love or be loved and that space was now filled with the need for deviance and gasoline. Instincts can be right just as well as they can be wrong, so to trusting them is a crap shoot. Nonetheless, she felt this one was it.