Kevin

Interview by: Lindsey Marschka
 * 1) Favorite Books? The Catcher in the Rye, 1984, the Little Prince, Fight Club. He puts value in individuality shown in films.
 * 2) Favorite style of music? Punk Rock (Rise Against, Dropkick Murphy’s, Blink 182)
 * 3) What kind of writing defines your style best? Poetry!
 * 4) What kind of writing do you dislike? Stories without meaning. Likes to interpret more than have it handed to him.
 * 5) Favorite classes? English, History. Where there is room for interpretation, those are the most interesting and exciting classes.
 * 6) Favorite artwork? Surrealism
 * 7) Favorite Writing Topic? Insanity-concept of it, what’s it like/means to be insane.
 * 8) Twilight-yes or no? Doesn’t mind the books, but the movies exploit it to a certain extent that is a little excessive.
 * 9) Favorite Movie? 28 Days Later
 * 10) Do you watch TV often? Not often, but when he does watch it he is drawn to shows like Criminal Minds

Bio: If i needed to describe myself in one word, i would stare at you blankly, because i have no idea how to do that. Frankly, I think I'm just about the last person in the world capable of writing a description of myself. I'm from New York, but i have also lived in Massachusetts, West Virginia, and Maryland. I moved to Pennsylvania in mid-September. Most of my writing is poetry, and is almost always fewer than 6 lines. Annddd... uuhhh.... yeah.

Nothing is real. Everything that I see, hear, feel or smell is a figment of an imagination of some being that I cannot even comprehend, but is somehow me. The laws of logic and physics in this world were dreamt up by me and would make no sense to me in the “real world” Not even the words I write on this paper are real. The impact made by any words, deeds, or ideas I have absolutely no impact on anything because they were all dreamt up by me. Nothing that I ever do in this world will ever change anything real because it is all just a dream. Like beating a video game, nothing has changed when you turn off the television. As I make up new complex way in which my fantasy fits together, I rationalize them as facts that I “learn” in school. I tell myself that school has been around for hundreds of years, that I am but one more link in a great chain that has gone on for millennia. This, however, like everything else in my world, is false. The world was born when the idea entered my head, and will die again as soon as I grow tired of it. But, in fact, the world has not yet begun. This is but a memory, like millions of others, that I have created to explain how I got to where the dream began, to make this world more believable. The world may not begin for several more millennia, after I have come up with a way for me to live that long. Time, however, is not real either, and the next fifty billion years may pass in what seems to me to be five seconds. This world will exist for an unimaginably short period of time, and will vanish when I have come up with something more interesting to occupy my time. Even if my fantasy were to be trapped, and the memories extracted, none of it would make any sense to me. All things spoken, written, or thought would be complete gibberish, meaningful only to the imaginary residents of my fantasy world. I am the only thing that is real, others may say they are and call me crazy for proposing this because they know they are real, but I dreamt them saying that. I am the only reality, the only one that matters. So… why did I bother writing this?