There's everything you need to know about me: I like the music of Elvis Costello, and I pretentiously use song lyrics to try to describe myself instead of writing something that's actually interesting.
Okay, that’s not entirely true. I am a little pretentious, and I do like the music of Elvis Costello, but the quote is actually partial inspiration behind my handle, which, combined with the last two digits of my birth year, is the same handle I’ve been using online for almost six years now (it’s also inspired by Moby’s ‘Porcelain,’ one of my favorite songs). If you stumble across “Porcelain72” anywhere on the web, chances are it’ll be me, even if it’s a site with which I can’t recall ever signing up. Should it turns out to not be me, please notify me so that the impostor may be dealt with at once.
You’ve probably already figured out that I’m bad at writing openings, at least openings about me. I find it difficult to talk about myself, and yet I find the subject of myself ceaselessly fascinating. I like to imagine Harry Smith of A&E’s ‘Biography’ telling my life story, only he’s speaking in the voice of Peter Graves, because ‘Biography’ was far more respectable when he was the host. Now they do episodes on people like Jessica Simpson and John Stamos. Actually, that’s not such a bad thing, because, considering John Stamos has led a life only marginally more notable than mine, I’m not that far from my own episode.
I was born in New Jersey, where, as the wacky t-shirt says, the weak are killed and eaten. I’ve moved around quite a bit, to various part of New Jersey, Baltimore, and Las Vegas. I've very recently moved to Brooklyn, and hope that I've finally found my home. I was born in the Year of the Rat, which supposedly makes me generous yet slow to trust. I also like to eat cheese and skulk around in dank, dark tunnels. In case I forget, I have the Chinese symbol for “rat” tattooed on my right ankle. I also have the symbols for “clarity” and “knowledge” on the back of my neck. I am only mildly paranoid that they really say something like “fat” and “whore.”
The duality of my nature can best be illustrated by the fact that I like both escargot and Chee-tos (crunchy only, plz). I love 70s-80s punk, old school hip hop, fogey goth music and grunge, though my appearance suggests little else but nerdy bookworm. I know a lot about movies, and the only thing that’s ever gotten me is a handful of hollow triumphs at Trivial Pursuit. I don’t watch a lot of TV, but I do watch cartoons, and not just because I’m mother to a grade school-age child. I just finished reading ‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’ for the fourth time. I like my sandwiches cut into two triangles. I know a lot about serial killers, and the only thing that’s ever gotten me is a handful of weird looks, because Trivial Pursuit has yet to offer a pie wedge for serial killers.
I no longer tell people that I’m a writer, because being a writer has become the new black, all the cool kids are doing it these days. Once Paris Hilton was able to claim the title of “author,” writing lost whatever remaining shred of artistic dignity and credibility it once had. Too bad I feel an intractable pull towards it, and it’s one of the only things at which I’m any good. I’ll go back to telling people I’m a writer when it’s no longer fashionable, which I expect will probably be in about six to nine months (approximately).
I am currently spoken for, and hope to remain in that status for the duration. I am neither bisexual, polyamorous, or a pagan, but I have many friends on the internets who are (or at least claim to be). I am a practicing agnostic who is more inclined to think that God doesn’t believe in her, rather than vice versa. I have some interest in Buddhism but have yet to embrace the concept of letting go of material interest and worry. Also, I like meat. Mmm, meat.
I have a LiveJournal. It’s at http://www.livejournal.com/users/porcelain72/. I’m much more popular there than I am in real life. I’m also on Friendster, though I almost never use it and can’t quite figure out the purpose of it.
1. I’m assuming, as I’ve never actually tasted pepper pot soup. If you have, please contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org and tell me how it is.