Autobiographical Nonsense

Let’s get something out of the way: you don’t really give a shit about this page. You either came here to listen to the music or because you’re an overly sensitive shit who wants to complain because I said something in a song that shattered the few remaining brain cells you had left. That wasn’t an accident. I did it on purpose. Lick my ass.

OK, for the 9 of you out there who actually want to read this, let’s go with the newly condensed version that isn’t a thousand feet long.

Who Am I?

I am a mostly regular guy. I watch Netflix, eat Corn Pops and Little Debbie Snacks, live in perpetual fear of Katie Featherstone. You know, normal stuff.

My origin story isn’t very different than most. In fact, you’ve probably heard it or read it in a Nicolas Sparks novel:

Boy meets girl. Boy falls for girl. Girl fucks up boy’s head and sends him on a long journey of self-destruction that results in multiple rap albums.

OK, so it’s not exactly typical but that’s what happened. A broken heart that essentially snapped my brain and turned on the rap goliath you hear in my music. Yeah, Mimic came from that.

The truth is that music is the way I exhaust whatever is in my head.