Hey.
Have you arrived well? In good order? Wunderbar. Welcome to a place. It's as unimportant or important as any other place you might find yourself. I've sprinkled some things here that might interest you. Maybe not. Either way, I'm glad to see you. It's been too long.
This meat person.
MY NAME IS nick
I don't know what to write here. For someone who talks incessantly, it seems that I lack the bits and bots to fill you in on what you'd like to know. Maybe that's it: I don't know what you'd like to know. Here are some things. I've lived places, some of them interesting and some nondescript. I eat food. I'm super interested in complicated things with many unique parts, especially when they can be expanded to the existential realm. There's that thing you do with your hair when you tuck it behind your ear...I'm really into that. Once, when I was a kid, I believed this place would be better than it is; I was also really into cheese. Anyway, thanks for rolling through. There are some things to see here. It would be great if you strolled around. It would be better, for me, if you emailed and we can wax poetic about CV joint work on the Vanagon Syncro or the right temperature for sauteing mushrooms.
These meat hands.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do with these hands. I've tried a lot of tasks. This space, hopefully, will direct you to some of the tasks you may be interested in.
Writing is an endeavor into the muck of your jelly space. Your in-world. Your plum. I could yammer about the collective unconscious, Capital A Art, and the eternal value & mediums of capturing the human condition. Instead, here's a link to some words that I've written which probably do a better job. And there's some shameless bumf attempting to establishing an editing relationship with you too.
I like beer and I like literature. I have some friends that do too. When our powers combine, we are Captain Planet. Not really. What really happens is we produce a podcast called Wordsworthing about all things literary. The button below will take you there. Then amazing things will happen.
There's a certain frenzy/calm in the creation of something. There's the learning, the infancy, the wounds, the struggle, the sweat, and ultimately the production of a physical thing in the world. Of all the objects I've worked on or created, I'm drawn to wood. Because I really I'm not creating anything. The wood grew itself some magnificence and my goal is to help that wood (as it arrives to me already having been slain) into becoming a functional piece of wonder.
You might be asking yourself, "Is this fella interested in making me some beauty?" The answer is yes.
I'm endeavoring on a potentially lengthy, polarizing, and vulgar project to uphold what I believe to be the correct path of literature. It's likely regrettable. But, passion takes many forms. Let me know in the comments (at the destination) if you love or hate it.