he describes himself as a vessel, a container of symbols

he describes himself opening his mouth: like a pod expelling seeds into the wind

he describes himself as painting over there, sometimes writing, sometimes reading or staring out the window or across the lawn or at the clouds

he describes himself as the boy left alone in the woods, who got off the bus to a locked house, who walked through the rain down a dirt road when the bus ran in a ditch, who forgets what he's told to forget but remembers everything - who remembers the smell of sweat and cotton on a millworker's skin, who remembers air conditioning only in town (otherwise lots of fans, in every room), who remembers light bulbs hanging from the ceiling on cords with string pulls.

he describes himself as floating, separating, coalescing, forming, distilling and solidifying in a protean display of nuance

he describes himself as someone who thinks a horror movie set in a coffee shop called "save room for scream" would be a delightful freakish romp among the urban haute bourgeoisie