I go by the name Michael, though mostly people use ‘Mike’ or ‘De Soto.’ It really depends on the general mood of the situation I suppose. There was a girlfriend one time that thought ‘Michael’ sounded more educated, more canny, more intimate, more wise — basically more than I’ve ever been in my entire life. It sounded funny to me then, but she took her clothes off for me, and so I ask: What was I going to do? The ‘Michael’ sound has grown on me in the intervening years. It looks good in print. So, that’s what I go by.
Where I’ve been hiding
You need a Mercator projection and some pushpins to track me down. Here’s how I moved: Burke, Virginia to مسقط، سلطنة عمان; to Alexandria, Virginia; to Panamá, República de Panamá; to Springfield, Virginia; to București, România; to Wien, Österreich; to Centreville, Virginia; back to Wien, Österreich; to Richmond, Virginia; to Perth, Australia; to Arlington, Virginia; to Vienna, Virginia; and finally back to Richmond, Virginia.
I’ve been in Richmond for four years — the longest I’ve ever lived in one place.
What I’ve been doing
I’m not particularly skilled at any one thing. I’m not especially good at most things. But here’s this: I’ve done — I do — one hundred thousand little things. Call them hobbies, I suppose. One hundred thousand. I mean, sure, it’s hyperbole, but not by much.
I suppose I could use this space to list a few of my hobbies. But what’s the point? I will say this: At some point there will be a gallery of my work on this website. How it manifests itself, or when, is yet to be seen. I have a habit — call it a hobby maybe? — of saying things, of promising things that are never brought to fruition. I don’t bear much fruit. I am aware. All I can say is that I’ll try harder.
The company I keep
My roommate is a black cat called Bishop. He’s an unbelievable pain in my ass. I hate that guy so much. The entire first year I had Bishop I looked for a no-kill shelter to put him in. I did the drive-by a couple of times. But then someone suggested that my troubled history with the cat was directly correlated with my inability to maintain a committed relationship. She had a point, and so I kept him around. People come and go, and yet the bastard cat remains.
I don’t love many things and I don’t love that guy, but I’ll admit that my life would be a bit emptier without his chatter around the flat, or the daily 4 a.m. wake-up call.
