Sunday, July 17, 2011

Some Background Info

Photo Credit: B&A
I was raised by wolves until stolen by a passing band of gypsies.  It was easy to adapt to the life of a nomad, campfires, caravans, music.  It firmly instilled in me a lifelong leisurely pace and wander lust; not to mention a penchant for those colorful swirly skirts that look terrible with wolfy, hairy legs.  After a few years on the road the gypsies left me with a Bohemian circus family in exchange for baked goods and a box of ducks.  At least that is how I remember the deal, it is equally possible that they forgot me and the circus family never noticed the new addition - it was quite a large clan.  Living with the Bohemians my days were spent with a pet alligator, an evil monkey and a slew of imaginary friends.  I credit the Bohemians for my ability to dart in and out of alternate universes at will and undetected.

Nowadays I live in Reykjavik, Iceland with an electric blanket named Russell.  I write, explore universes, invent philosophies and swim in volcanic ponds.  I enjoy jogging to angry screamo-music, yoga and mainlining dark chocolate.  I abhor paperwork and have devoted much of my life to ridding it from several string universes where I would be welcomed with parades and have statues erected in my honor, except no one will fill out the proper paperwork.  The Bohemian family never visits, flying makes them nervous, and in addition to their fear of air they are witchy and therefore adverse to water.  We exchange Christmas cards though.  I saw a few of my old gypsy friends in a club on Laugavegur once, but they didn't recognize me due to my extensive electrolysis.  I could almost do justice to those swishy skirts now, though the snow pants take away from the effect.  I did reunite briefly with my biological wolf pack and though they often invite me to come visit and take down a reindeer for old time's sake, my vegetarianism is a canyon forever between us.  They say they will never accept it.  It is good to know they are out there on cold winter nights, roaming the icy tundra...  Though according to Wikipedia there are no wolves in Iceland, so I strongly suspect they are really just arctic foxes.

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If you can hear me, verbose on me. Or throw glitter. Wotever.