So I built an igloo not long ago. It took hours, but we fit six whole people in. This is not a metaphor. Do not adjust your TV set.

That was when the snow came, obviously. Now the snow is gone and there's a whole year laid out in front. I can see summer over there on the hill, and autumn in the trees. I believe this is a metaphor. But if this is a metaphor, why do I keep stubbing my toes on February? February hurts.

Of course, I could be confusing February with the doorframe. Damn doorframes.

Anyway. I ramble so. I suppose I'm trying to talk about myself, rather than just talk. Recently I heard a lot about the moon, Inuits, Tesco/Satan, lava sledging and ferns. This tells you something about me. It has to do with *insert profound truth here*

So there you go. Life eh? First it snows on you, then it presents you with turnip juice. I suppose I'm just looking to meet people and share turnip juice in the snow. I realise this may not be to everyone's tastes, but I'm open to other ideas. Harmonicas in the library, wolves in the kitchen, jokes in the sky...

Bla bla. So who I? An obsessive, a dreamer, a fool, a wordmonger, a laugh. Give me music, give me stories, give me hills, give me rock, give me film, give me art, give me something new...

. . .

I am a me in a place where the sun shines whilst the plants plot colours that will take over the world. I am a me who makes no sense, unless you listen to me sidewards. I am a me who wants to have fun, to out-talk the sun, to out-whisper the moon. I am a me who wants to make friends, to play frisbee when it rains and laugh buckets when the TV tries to be serious. I am a me who wants to meet a you.