What do I do? What don't I. I work at the museum on weekends, am a roadie for whatever band needs me whenever they do, a lecturer during the week- odd stuff like obscure mythology. My students think I'm crazy. Some of them. Don't blame them, really. I do some metalwork, too. Don't make anything useful, but the weirder people around here make sure it sells well. And it gives me a good excuse to listen to Billie Holiday. I take care of the cat, too, if that counts; a grey one with green eyes named Shiva. She belongs to my fiancé, thinks she owns me. But then I guess that's how cats are.
My fiancé though, she's what gives life meaning for me. She's in India right now, sorting out things with her family before she comes to live here with me. It's been a month since I've seen her, and even though she said she'd be fine over there, when your worst fear is losing the one you love, it's hard to believe it. I don't think I've slept right since she left.
Aside from that, what's to say? I like the smell of pineapple juice (too many tropical holidays, I think), the room in the Indian restaurant down the street- on the wall in the back there's this fantastic map, all geo-topographic stuff laid out in curves and lines. Gives me something to think about while I eat my curry.
That's about all there is to me. Or at least, all that really matters. I'd go on about my dreams or aspirations or something like that, but aside from being with the woman I love, I don't take any of them seriously enough to dwell on them for very long. I'm happy just being the strange guy with the Nepali jacket who people say always looks like he has something on his mind that he's not telling anyone.
TEXT by Carolyn Angelo + IMAGES by Tobias Cook