Born in endless fields of high prairie and corn. Tuned at a young age to bliss on the cliffs, red skies at the right times, smoke in my eyes. Delighted by coincidence and impossibilities, distasteful of chance. Original sin is real but I breed anyway. Muscled my way to the top of a minor heap and took a bride, ran off for the hills to exist solely on thai noodles and ice cream. Love my baby, love my dog, love my friends.