I'm afflicted by a particularly pernicious form of insomnia at the moment. I really would much rather be asleep. But my brain, cursed as it is, has other plans. The house is asleep save for me and the silence is churlish. Maybe it would quiet my demons to hear about someone else's.
And here's my boilerplate: I'm a big, burly, broad-shouldered, bald, bearded, bespectacled, blaspheming, bi-curious-curious bibliophile. Lonely but not alone. Logophile, pun-lover, nerd, ex-cultist, hard-atheist, champion-of-the-serial-comma, and insomniac. I’m progressive, pro-choice, pro-weed, pro-science, pro-antifa, pro-love, pro-rationalism. I'm sex-positive, curmudgeonly, and avuncular, a hopeless-romantic, jaded-cynic. Imagine the captain of a pirate ship with a booty only of books or the bouncer at an exclusive library. You’re probably not off mark.
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