Guest Writers

CatDog

 

Deep in the suburbia of the desert-like Las Vegas, there once dwelt a small boy. Completely sheltered by an (actually) psychotic mother and a disinterested, forever-gone airline pilot of a father, he fed on books about dragons and the complete mastery of the tetherball. Friends were a forbidden fruit, and as such he should have ended up socially dysfunctional. Turns out, he’s pretty chill.

Several years later, he had been uprooted and replanted in Washington. On the eve of his 18th birthday, he moved out and started fucking shit up with style. As an extremely hyperactive social butterfly, he became a vital part of the Seattle rave scene, gaining somewhat creepy stalkers and a few pretty ladies. He was also known for starting a Seattle-wide turf war between ravers and Juggalos, the clown folk. Teaching himself to depend only on his own resources, he quickly adapted to life on his own. Ending up in Olympia after some years, he was amazed and charmed by the sharp contrast of picturesque shops and ironic hipsters of downtown with the seedy underbelly of organized gang activity. After several narrow escapes including a knife to the throat, he got smart and started hanging around Evergreen State College. Hippies love the Catdog.

And here he stands today; attempting to polish his rarely used writing skills. Feeble claims of poetry contests won and essays acclaimed earned his way into the hearts of Karli Marshall and Andrew Taylor. An avid fan of Ben Gibbard and Death Cab for Cutie, he dares you to talk shit about it. His musical tastes vary from the bitchy screamo of the Blood Brothers to the cool house of Deadmau5 to the catchy scratch of chiptune artists like Sabrepulse and the yet to be discovered Awesomecat to the heartbreaking indie of Bon Iver to the intelligent hip hop of Blue Scholars. He’s diverse, deal with it. He’s here to introduce you to all the music he spent forever searching for on those never visited sites and not working that hard for by listening to Pandora Radio. He’s got that snappy street-wise way of spewing bullshit that you just might want to read for kicks.

He’s here to stay and here to give you his number. To take you home and not have sex on the first date, just to call you the next day and make dinner plans. I love you and all you stand for, so….hey ladies. ❤

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