He brings many things to the table. Skilled list-maker, tireless redactor, thrice textbook slave, writer, web developer, he has a few ideas, most of which may have to wait. His preschool teacher said he “is his own man,” a gypsy automaton observed his “shrewd and clever mind,” and beautiful women have independently called him “adorable.” He causes heaps of trouble. A teething chihuhua’s razor-fine incisors left his fingers impaired but without permanent scarring. He favors local business and agriculture, fuel economy, affordable housing, decaf, leisure, the liturgy, word-of-mouth, well-formed markup, and layered PSDs. Mostly he just plays. There’s a chance your letter never made it to his box, or his to yours or something. If the options include cola, he’ll have to think about it. Once almost crushed by Ryne Sandberg fans, he later survived a sodden, train-bound mass from the Taste and now savors—when he can—the fevered, odorous, exoskeletal press of public transit in the morning rush, shot silent to the Loop—ah humanity! Sometimes he doesn’t lock the door. While he won’t relive the ’80s with you, he will play with your dog. Please divert him from his computer and discourage his pursuit of another prior to securing an educational discount. Direct mail@ this particular domain, with love.
On this site: Bike/Fare, Work, home. Elsewhere: blockquote.org and formerly justin.revision8.com, as well as underused Twitter, Flickr, and del.icio.us accounts.