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Shimmy enjoys using the wrong fork to eat his salad. He has a favorite hat and a favorite shirt, but he can't seem to find a pair
of favorite shoes. He thinks vitamin water is stupid. He once fell in love with a Mormon.
But now she is married and lives in New York and he is not in love with her anymore. He has mixed feelings about (participating in) group sex.
He likes sitting around fires and drinking whiskey.
He believes clapping is the road to happiness, but only when the clapping is out of context, in a supermarket for example,
or the post office. (Try it.)
He believes if everyone danced more, there would be far less conflict.
One time he laid down on the floor of the desert and watched a parachute above his head go crazy in the wind.
He remembers being sure he would remember the image at the moment of his death. It was beautiful. Sometimes he writes things down on pieces of paper and then reads them aloud. He has fun doing this.
In 2004 he won best political poem at Collegiate Slam Nationals in Berkeley. And the next year,
in 2005, he was a member of team Santa Cruz, who won the whole shabang in Philadelphia, and went home the Collegiate National Champions. It was weird. Since then he has performed
at high schools and universities and poetry slams across the country. He finds it all very strange and interesting. When he writes, he writes diagonally.
Sometimes he writes with his friend Elliott, and they try to be funny, when they do this they call it Go Mom.
Shimmy currently lives in a truck, surrounded by many, many plants. One of them is named Hank.
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