About Me

The Pinecone General, circa 2016,
as a genderbent Casey Newton.

Hey everyone.

Officially, I was born in 1993 in the San Francisco Bay Area, in a town too far south for driving winter rain and too far north for blazing summer heat. Unofficially, I was born in 1983 in Los Angeles, where the government immediately took me away, froze my infant self for ten years, and tried their best to make me forget I was Andrew Garfield's evil half-Maltese twin.

They failed. ;)


Unable to wait tables for lack of hand-eye coordination, and barely able to land a (seasonal) retail job for lack of the ability to maintain eye contact with the customers, I've instead turned to writing to fuel my career. It doesn't pay the bills, which is why I still live at home with my parents. Speaking of which, they were always bound and determined that I should grow up to be a nerd when my real dream was to be a geek, which is why we have so much trouble seeing eye to eye. That, and the fact that they usually see me through tracking the GPS on my phone, which is why I pretty much can't go anywhere except school, the library, and the movies maybe once a month, if that.

Because of my long-standing feeling that I don't belong in this world, I've either lost myself in the fictional ones of movies, books, and TV, or made up my own. It's a time-honored defense mechanism, and if my parents didn't want me to be a doe-eyed INFP geekboy dreamer...

You should see how often I practice this in the mirror.

...they shouldn't have bought me Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone at age seven. Sadly, it's gotten to the point where happy endings are just so hard to come by in my work, because deadly feels are right where it's at, or so it appears. I blame Harry Potter, of course. And The Amazing Spider-Man, Supernatural, Buffy, Danny Phantom, Teen Wolf, Avatar: The Last Airbender, E.T., The Hunger Games...the list goes on.

I should also mention that after my last deal with the Devil, I'm required to continuously lament my single-pringle status lest I lose my soul. Even if I get a girlfriend (this in spite of the fact that I'm perfectly undateable), I must continue lamenting. That way, my parents won't suspect a thing, and won't get to disapprove of my significant other. They really would, too. They tend to disapprove of my dreams. Like being a writer, or writing official Spider-Man YA novels for Marvel, or getting a tattoo, or getting a motorbike, or even getting a hat. (I don't know why, but my parents hate it when I buy another overpriced beanie.)

If you want to find me, I'm often in my writing cave (my bedroom), or perhaps playing Bejeweled on my iPhone and listening to Pandora because I'm mentally stuck at age 17 and those were all super-hot back then in 2010. (This, I think, is another reason why I don't have Netflix - I'm just too behind the times.) And because of my lingering mistrust of real people, whom my parents have trained me to fear because they (my parents, I mean) think I'm too "different."

Believe it or not, none of my writing has ever been produced under the influence. I've somehow never had alcohol or weed in my life, and the one time I ever had any kind of drugs, I was fifteen, I'd broken my leg, and they were painkillers that wrecked my digestion for a week and put me in major withdrawal every time my parents tried to wean me off them. (And they were supposed to be for kids. This is why I don't trust Big Pharma.)

And thus concludeth my overlong bio page...for now.

Sending love to all my Pinecones. <3
Remember: Denis Leary is always watching. Always.