I know readers have wondered if there’s something horribly wrong with my face, whether I wear thick coke bottle lenses, or ”live in my Mom’s basement.”
I met one of my readers in person once, and he told me he expected exactly that.
In 5 years of writing here on and off, I’ve mostly avoided mentioning my fleshly appearance. My interest has been in ideas.
The nominal anonymity of the internet has allowed people to encounter me as a disembodied spirit, and that has been just as I intended.
If you met me in real life, though, you’d find I’m more the Aragorn type than Napoleon Dynamite, especially back when I had shoulder length hair.
You might find me in a tavern, sitting at the shadowy table in back, a flagon in one hand, my pipe in the other, just watching people come and go.
If I were an animal, I might be the furtive raven or the wandering falcon watching from a precipice.
I’m physically tough, have worked lots of manual labor jobs that don’t require talk, have always loved the solitude of being out in the open.
I’m not given to lots of emotional discourse in person; my blog posts have been an outlet for a part of my being I don’t use much in everyday life.
I’m probably not the guy you’d suspect goes home and reads books about philosophy and reflects on the relationship between the individual and society.
To this day, though, I live carefully on the fringes watching the motions of the many from afar.