Visarett

Author bio:

I am the bastard offspring of when a man loves a woman, inasmuch as a man can love a woman all night long and into the next seventeen years of financial ruin caused from raising a stuffy, childish brat that drinks deep of the hatorade.

My bitter, hateful, spiteful, jaded pandemic of negative efflux is contrasted by a unique ability to be agonizingly optimistic about the most mundane things. Despite my Christian background, I have little faith in humanity at large, mostly because they continue to be at large.

To sum up the last twenty-some-odd years of spastic motions, well shit. I have been through the ringer, past the edge of disaster and pulled back, seen death, seen life and too much crap in-between. I'm a Christian, a combat veteran, a cancer-survivor, half-deaf pretend pony with more tricks than the fucking Kellogs rabbit could consume if ever given the chance. I read, I write, I hike and run while smattering in an obscene amount of thoughtful indignation at a world drunk off its malady.

I build universes, Lego and inconsequential biographies, play make-believe and video games. I aspire to much and deign to little. I am T. Carey, the Wolfgang Visarett and many variations besides.