a ragamuffin from Shelter Island, United States

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If you met me, you wouldn't be able to tell that I was the author of my pieces.  I'm young and ignorant, and that's fine.  My real name isn't James, but for all intensive purposes it could be.  I like fast music, long nights and cold beer.  There are people who insist that my legs are made of denim because they've never seen me in anything other than jeans.  My writing speaks for itself with a voice much louder and more profane than my own.  I love reading more than I love writing, and I write to give myself more to read.

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