Once upon a time there was a young man, often manic or obsessive but otherwise pleasant who made an effort.

Now in his place there's some older asshole that is decidedly less photogenic and much less sociable after years of retail and existential crises. Seriously, fuck people.

Anywho, supposed reports of my death have been slightly exaggerated. I've only died on the inside~



I enjoy fire and sparks, feeling steel mold under steel and muscle, the scent of fresh pipe tobacco and shaved hardwood, the feel of well used tools and other pseudo-intellectual ways of saying "making shit".

I also take to screen archery when playing vidjagames and enjoy technology insofar as I can afford it.

Not too sure why I'm here anymore and really don't like writing flowery descriptions. Get curious, ask and I'll tell if I'm around.