I will not tell you much,
But this I know full well:
That that which is inside of me
Makes all the tales I tell.

Naught have I writ myself,
For it was sent to me
By some strange entity unknown
Who lives in my psyche.

It is no foreign mind,
But part of me; e'en still,
It functions on its own sometimes,
Producing what it will.

My body matters not;
My personage, still less;
My soul, it laughs, inviting you
To guess and guess and guess.

My soul! I know it now!
My "soul" is what I call
The being that within me sits
Yet knows me least of all.

Well, sir/ma'am, if you are still reading this, you actually deserve to know some things about me.

I am a young man, without occupation at present. I live not in Nant-Y-Glo, PA, but somewhere in New England. I also act much of the time (it being my natural personality) as though I were from several centuries ago. This has always been problematic for me because, due to my immense distaste for "popular culture" and preference for older works of art, I have never been able to consume what the mass media tries to feed me.

One day, being fed up with the lack of old-style contemporary music and writing (if that makes any sense), I decided to create my own. I am both a semi-amateur composer (I have had a couple works played by real ensembles) and a fully amateur writer. My favorite genres of writing, if I had to choose, would likely be satire (after Voltaire, not whatever Wattpad considers to be "satire") and surreal horror, as well as anything written in meter. My favorite genres of music are ragtime and folk music (real folk music, not what people come up with and call folk music).

Despite living in New England, I am a conservative and a Methodist (with Baptist leanings) through and through; if I lived during the time from which I act as though I came, I would not be so unusual, but as it is, my kind belongs these days out in Appalachia. I make it no secret that these sentiments often find their way into my writings.