the logic, walking around
He has kids. That comes first because it is first.
Dubz is fifty. He describes his current address as liminal — between versions, between the person he was and the one The Logic keeps pointing toward. He has been using that word a lot lately.
It fits.
By day: procurement consulting. He finds the money organizations didn't know they were losing and tells them about it. He is good at this. It is not the most interesting thing about him.
He has every Nine Inch Nails album and every Mountain Goats album and Trampled by Turtles, because the point was never consistency — it was coverage. He can name every project Dan the Automator ever touched, 1989 to present, and will, if given the opening. His favorite poet is Stephen Crane, which says something specific about how he feels about the universe's sense of obligation.
He took a flashlight to bed in third grade to read after lights-out. He hasn't really stopped. The light source changes — Blade Runner, for the thousandth time — but the posture is the same. Reading the dark. Taking notes.
Everyone in his high school English class hated Slaughterhouse-Five. He walked out and bought every Vonnegut he could find and read them in a weekend. That led to Updike. Updike led to Irving. Irving led to Henry Miller — one way or another, it always does. He reads the way he listens: all in, follow the chain, don't stop when it gets weird.
He writes things he doesn't always call poems. He won't call himself a writer or a poet, because titles should be bestowed, never self-applied. He has attributed his own work to "Unknown". He cooks the same dish until it earns a version number.
The ∴ means therefore. Everything here is a therefore — something he followed the logic to, then wrote down.
He did not build this place to explain himself.
He built it because the logic kept going.
Welcome.