I am a reclusive, private, and some-what odd middle-aging guy living in the most

densely populated part of LA. Single, 5.11-180, Br-Gr, Good-looking. I enjoy strolling

the moon-lit beach, walking in the rain, etc., and I will consider any offer for companionship

no-matter how shallow or nefarious your intentions may be. I accept that the less depth

and the most ill-will you can muster is all I can possibly hope for.

I raise a perpetually flowering garden as well as several dogs and my familiar,

(as in Hamlet) named Blackie the Cat. I have a pedigree in fine arts. I mope a lot.

I whine. I am obnoxious. I write because it keeps me from acting out. I'm basically a

juvenile delinquent who never, or ever, will grow up. On the other hand, I am a

fine, funny and passionate compassionate soul with great insight into the language

of pain and joy. I am very humble at times, but usually I'm conceited and arrogant.

I tell everybody my IQ is 183, but it's really only 162, as if that even mattered.

So I guess I lie too ... I prefer, 'embellishing the truth'. I am a boastful and

cocky guy who says he doesn't care but I may be insecure instead. In conclusion,

I am trouble and your mother and father would be very concerned if you brought me to dinner

... unless they are psychiatrists. It's possible their curiosity about mental health might trump their fear.

06/01/2012

Posted on 06/01/2012
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