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I keep trying to escape myself, but words explain me.

Tea with Mussolini, Breakfast on Pluto, lunch and tea over dinner.

Name:
Part beatnik, part hippie -- all Portland.
External Services:
  • fuzzy_san@livejournal.com
I'm kind of a grammar Nazi. Don't judge.

I have a cat named Sgt. Princess Stupid La Gatitta Waffle Shadow Hisagi Muffin Fluffy Weirdo Ninja Pinja Nirate Pirate Swing-belly Ichimaru Buonocore the Third, and a hamster-squirrel-alien-dog-cat-rat-fur-covered thing called Cornelius Clock. We call them Waffles and Corny. They are completely insane and the highlights of my bad days.

Typically I'm a happy and loving person, but I can get a) really stupid, and b) kinda mean. Especially about politics and the like. To be safe, just don't discuss it with me. Oh, also -- homophobia makes me want to hurt people. Animal abuse makes me homicidal. Racism makes me violent. You get the idea. Play nice.

I eat weird stuff.

I like all types of music, and yes, that does include stuff like polka and country and rap and death metal and pop and all those exceptions that people say when they say they like 'music'. I can enjoy any kind of music as long as it's good quality. If I can't understand the lyrics, that's okay. It kicks up my imagination.

When I talk about 'Tei', and 'catching' or 'beating [him] up', I am referring to my muse, who sits on my shoulder and makes me do otherwise inexplicable things. He occasionally wakes me up late at night to paint, sew, write fanfiction, stories, and raps/beat poems. My background in marching band has given me an inability to write any sort of poems sans rhyme and beat.

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