I'm the rare type of guy who walks through walls. I'm a radical freaking pinko. At the moment I guess you could call me a queer, hoT around the collar, pre-op, generally butch, translad who moonlights as a drag performer and has a propensity towards dodging comfortable labels in and out of the sack. I'm an aspiring starving bohemian artist/academic/man of the world. You could call me a philosopher king of sorts. I'm a thinker, a fighter, and a postmodern direct action activist. I'm a film noire enthusiast. I'm a comic-book superhero.
I'm the one who rides the wrong way down one-way streets late at night to see the look on drivers' faces for that split uncertain second. Though I know my way around the city, sometimes it takes a little rule-breaking to get where you're going to end up.
I'm a feminist. One of the very few guys out there who can instruct you on the topic of alternative menstrual products and has a copy a book by Naomi Wolf or Bell Hooks or various sundry others on me at almost any given time.
I'm in a cafe with a scarf and turtleneck and pot of tea listening to jazz on rainy days. I'm that dumbmotherf*ckingpunkanarchist that just tagged your SUV. I'm a loud drunk. A degenerate. An invert.
I'm quick. I'm passionate. I'm brutal and honest. I'm clued-the-F-in.