I'm afflicted by a particularly pernicious form of insomnia lately. Sleep would be twoderful. But my brain, cursed as it is, has other plans. Mostly those plans involve obsessing about how quiet and dark night is. The house is asleep save for me and the silence is churlish.
I'd just like someone to keep me company. If you're up and you need someone to talk to, I'm your huckleberry.
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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