My name is Mark Powell (though some of my writing appears under the pen name Sam Guthrie) and I’m a middle-aged white guy who lives in a mid-size city that I adore. I work in a hippyish alternative healing practice. I have no idea how to tie a tie. I can’t figure out how other adult men dress to look like adult men. I’m a lifelong martial artist, having spent thirty-some years studying and teaching many ungentlemanly systems of combat. I loathe heat and humidity. I adore Joss Whedon. I have a guilty pleasure of MMA, and follow the ridiculous melodramas of various UFC fighters like an old lady following soap operas. I’m especially a fan of Nate Diaz. 209, wut.
I’ve been with my wife for over 25 years. We are madly in love. She is brilliant, funny, strong, smoking hot and my best friend ever. When we do yoga we listen to a silly Pandora station that plays cheesy India-esque music which we mock while we do our yoga, laughing and snorting in our asanas. Sometimes instead of yoga we do bodyweight and kettlebell workouts, in which case we often listen to the soundtrack of Jesus Christ Superstar. Or sometimes Adam and the Ants. Pity our neighbors (we live in a tiny condo).
We are both slobs. Our home is a wreck. When we have friends over and are cleaning in preparation, our goal is not to get our place to be “clean” or to look like normal grown ups’ homes. Our goal is simply for the chaos of our place to not suggest unbridled mental illness.
We have no children, about which sometimes we are sad, but usually not. Instead of children we have two cats. We love our highbrow, critically acclaimed TV shows that we watch via Netflix, Hulu, or iTunes on a laptop computer, although we have never binge-watched anything, because we are both workaholics.
Also, I am a devotee of Adi Da Samraj.