My name is Stacy Rollins, and I was born on Thanksgiving. After sunset, I am invisible. My favorite friends are the ones I've invented. Pomeranians and sunshine = YAY; most things people buy = NO. I have no yin, only a yen for more yang. I enjoy communicating telepathically, running clarity through the purifier, stubbing portmanteaus, speaking in dialects and tongues, dealing in Tarot spreads and magic spellings, unplugging the circuitous (often electrocuting myself in the process), dressing up in costumes, playing silly games, going to Renaissance Faires, and exercising vigorously. I'm a published poet, artist, and fairly good singer. I finished writing my first novel in 2006 and I had trouble emerging from its closure, even though I don't believe in closure. When I typed the last line, the dog on the sofa continued to sleep. My absence of faith in [most] absorptive, abstract concepts commonly signified in everyday speech has followed me throughout my peripatetic existence and has resulted in a wealth of failed attempts at being absorbed, myself, in the broad daylight of the commonplace where a first aid kit sits in my desk drawer. (A box of letters is always ready for moving day.) I'm neutral about gender, androgynous in thought, and I do not want to hear the word "phal-logocentric" ever again. All writing is "the symptom." I feel the give in every given, but I don't give in, and I've decided to stop giving without reciprocity. Yet I do it anyway. I do not believe in waiting for the "right moment" to act. I keep my word and I expect others to do the same. Here are some things I do not like that might not be obvious in the way that not liking liars and murderers and Monsanto is obvious: Beat poets, Charles Bukowski, milk chocolate, people who shove optimistic platitudes at you when your world is falling apart, procreation in the face of overpopulation, glamorized geekdom, mindless allegiance to groups, the belief that working long hours is somehow good for Americans, and social irresponsibility (e.g., failing to answer emails, not being punctual). But mostly Charles Bukowski. You may call me Auntie Fa. There is no cellulite on (in?) my body and I have never needed to tweeze or wax my eyebrows. The best things in life will freeze, including my legs when miniskirted in January. It is hard to be still and know that I am still. I'm loyal to a fault, strong of will, prone to extremes in levity and gravity, too honest for some people, and too sensitive for my own good. Progressive AF. Hail Mamdani. All power to the people! Height: 5'5". Weight: 103 pounds of kitten bone, ballerina muscle, and ponderous notions. IQ: 143, but probably languishing. Heart rate: 48 BPM. Blood pressure: 84/50, typically, but sometimes I can get it to go higher. Vata body, pitta mind. ENFJ, but the F is of liminal dominance. Lemony zest for life unless it gets in my eyes and I don't sleep. I'm incapable of experiencing envy. I tend to associate with charismatic, left-handed geniuses who've at some point been diagnosed with ADHD. Generally speaking, I'm best with air signs and fire signs. Animals with white fur make me happy. YAY! This concludes my profiling but it does not conclude our life together! I will touch you hard. Unless you are a flake. Then I will brush you off.