Me, a writer?

It’s my understanding that this piece is supposed to be a short biographical introduction for all five of you out there reading my rants. But before we get into the twisted freak show that is me, I’d like to thank all five of you for reading this. So, thank you.

Now for a little bit about the author (please excuse the third person approach):

He was born right here in Portland on Aug. 3, 1982. Before he reached the age of 8, he had traveled around the world and lived in three different states on opposite sides of the country.

His earliest memory is picking small rocks out of the flat bread that came straight out of the huge brick ovens in Tehran when he spent six weeks visiting his mother’s family there when he was 3.

He also remembers, right around the same time, doing a summersault down the stairs of his parents퀌_ first house and climbing onto the stove, in shorts, and turning on the electric burners his knees rested on, all on the same day. No one ever said he was the brightest bulb in the marquee.

When he was 9, his parents split, and since then he’s been trying to define what a “normal” relationship between parent and child is. He’s still pretty clueless and appreciates hearing different ideas on the subject.

Thanks to that once wonderful (now decrepit) pop-culture fountain MTV, he came to punk rock via Green Day at the age of 11. He still regards the video for “Longview” as his savior, but hates all the “new” punk music because it’s just over-produced, untalented shite. And in his now very limited free time, he plays drums in a punk band, and guitar for fun.

Oh yeah, he more or less hates organized religion, too, so get used to it. Sorry. But he does have Christianity, Islam and Judaism running in his blood, so it’s not just blind hatred, and it’s not un-equal; he’s an equal-opportunity hater.

And now his time is up.