My name is Luke Walker, I’m twenty-one years old. When I forget to shave I look like a fifty year old pervert named Raul. When I remember, I look like I’ve just emerged from my mom’s uterus, I’m baby-faced and covered in placenta and shit. In my spare time I fuck with pedophiles on the internet and send them half way across the world in search of young love, Jeremy Weathers from Nebraska, I hope Bucharest was fun. I probably have four friends, three if I don’t include Jeremy Weathers.

I’m an evolutionary anomaly, had I been born into a pack of sharks, or a herd of buffalo, I would have been eaten by my parents. I stand at a delightfully pathetic five foot six, weigh an alarming 135 lbs, I have a hairline that is running away from my face, and I’ve been mistaken for someone cursed with gigantism due to my massive head. I’m currently enrolled in McGill University in Montreal, Canada. It is a beacon of hope for every skinny boy who listens to trashy electronic music. At my institution, arts kids actually smell of apathy, it is this pungent odor that sort of resembles ass-hair and unwashed unmentionables. I work to distance myself from this elitist crowd, but often find myself on the steps of the arts building poking fun at management girls. In reality, it’s out of jealousy, they’ll be making mad scrilla in a couple of years, meanwhile I’ll be servicing Chinese businessmen in Shanghai for enough money to buy dog food. Ya, I know all the works of Tertullian and his Christological stance, I know the government structure of Lebanon, but all of that will be useless when I’m refurnishing shopping carts for a living.

Really my childhood was one awkward shitstorm after another. I reached my physical and sexual peak while my peers were still sucking at their mother’s teat; rocking a jungle of pubes when you’re in grade four doesn’t get the ladies, trust. Ever since my unfortunate premature development, I’ve entered into a shockingly rapid physical decline, my joints ache, I walk hunched over, and I can’t remember the last time I had my period, menopause sucks.

I’m a medical marvel, born with two spleens and a left breast, don’t worry, the left breast is gone, along with my dignity and a quart of blood. I’m probably missing a couple of other organs, who knows, if anyone wants a second spleen though, I’ll trade them one for a pancreas. The way I down energy drinks and extra-large cokes, I probably will have type two diabetes by Christmas.

I would die for three people: Han Solo, Wolf Blitzer, and Natalie Portman. The rest of you can go fuck yourselves. Natalie, if you’re reading this, did you get my life sized rice krispie sculpture I made of us? Why don’t you return my calls? You’re nothing without me.

I guess that’s it, if you read this far, you probably have no life, meaning you’ll probably be back.

Sexually Yours,

Luke