I don't mind the sirens, or the band next door, or the regular traffic. They're fine and are not the recipients of this missive. As for you, granted, ordinarily, I would find amusing your attempts to play what I assume is a drunken version of the "Close Encounters" alien greeting on a legion of car horns. But it's almost two. So fuck off, would you? Thanks.
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This is me.
No, really.
I am a writer, poet, spoken word performer, actor, singer, improviser, content creation and idea machine, freelance iconoclast, and the internet's janitor that dispenses pop culture wisdom to the protagonist of your choice. I have seen too many movies, read too many comic books, and when the zombies finally come, I'm the one you want to call. I sure as hell won't answer the phone, but it's the thought that counts. I advise people on the net, websites and technology, because I know these things instead of having a life or sleeping.
If you like something I've done, donate to the Widge Wants to Kill His Day Job Fund. Or if you'd like to hire me for a job, my rates are terribly reasonable. We thank you.
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