The
Man Behind Smoot
'Lo.
My name is Matt Bowyer, and I am here because I am an alco -- wait, that's
not it. Whee. There's the humor. Woohoo. Moving on -- I'm from western
Virginia, the Shenandoah Valley to be exact, and we traded living, well
anywhere else, for a version of Hell and moved to this run-down town, full
of drug addicts, complete morons, and the most dense people you will find
this side of California.
As you
may have noticed by glancing around here, my nickname, moniker, and semi-official
Net handle is Smoot. Almost everyone has asked where I got the nickname.
I'll make a short story short. I "stole" a clothing pin from the drama
department in my school that had "Smoot" written on it and pinned it to
my old, battered trademark trench coat. It's not an interesting, funny
story, but I have this feeling that you'll get over it.
Me bein' cool and reading Spin magazine. |
See the skinny
guy to your left? That would be me. I'm about 5'9", weigh a big ol' 115
pounds, and I disappear when I turn sideways. There used to be a picture
of me and Johannes, but that got a bit dated (I've not cut my hair since),
and I decided that sticking up a new one wasn't a bad idea. You can thank
one of my bored friends for the picture, since he had nothing better to
do than take a snapshot of me reading about Trent Reznor, scan it, and
email it to me.
So what am I
doing here on the Internet? Well, first and foremost, I'm a writer. You
probably can tell that, seeing as I have about zippo pics on this site.
I write fanfic
a lot less than I used to, but I still write it. I've found that being
part of an online writing community, no matter what sort (for me, it's
been the group based at CFAN),
can help you immensely. I can honestly say I sucked two years ago, and
now I've improved leaps and bounds.
I got started
on the path to stardom by editing the fics of a good friend of mine, Spade's,
whose writing was incredible, she just had a tendency to get ahead of herself
while typing and turn sentences into gibberish. The first fanfic I ever
read, I believe, was her Vow, which had Gambit as a half vampire
and I got into rather easily. I remember one good line about Wolverine
trying to figure out whether or not Gambit was a telepath, so he thought
a word really hard "at" the Cajun. Apparently Spade found me growling "asshole!!"
aloud and loud to be flat-out hilarious.
She directed
me to CFAN to read more stories other than just hers, and I suppose the
rest is history. I started writing, and never really stopped, going from
just fic to a wide assortment of short stories, poetry, comedy, an original
story of novel-length, and satirical columns, now.
But enough of
that! I'm sure you guys are just having a great time listening to me creak
back and forth in a rocking chair reminiscing of times past. Let's move
on to other things.
I play trumpet
in a high school jazz band, which makes me cool, even if you guys don't
think it does. That's about the extent of my musical talents, although
I can sorta play the drums, bass, guitar, and keyboards. Heh, I'm
the next Trent Reznor. Or not.
I like a lot
of music too, ranging from Nine Inch Nails and Rage Against The Machine
to, oh, Sting and Billy Joel. Elvis Costello and Morrissey too, somewhere
in there. An odd assortment.
I'm also, sadly,
rather vain. I'm not ever like "Oh, look at me, I'm so sexy", except when
I'm trying to throw up or some such, and I don't hinge all my thoughts
and images of other people by their appearances. I do, however, take a
lot of pride in how I look and how I present myself. It's that whole "first
impression" thing. Plus I dress like Euro-trash half of the time, and I
enjoy looking like that.
I'd like to
add a paragraph or two for my cat, Ben. I've had the little bugger all
my life, or at least since I was five. The first four years of my life
really aren't that clear and vivid. Ben's about twelve or thirteen years
old now, and somehow the kid's still alive. I mean, the cat sleeps in the
middle of the road. Not too different from normal? Well, he doesn't move
for cars until they're about a foot away from him, and then he's on top
of the telephone pole. He stays there for about a minute, slowly slinks
back down, hair on end... and then flops in the middle of the road again.
Stupid, stupid cat.
But he's the
kinda feline who'll just flop up on the foot of your bed on those days
where you're too sick to get up, or hop on your lap while you're watching
TV and snooze there with you. He's never scratched anyone, he's never caused
any real problems, and he's never let a day go by where he doesn't beat
the living tar out of another cat on the street. He's a retired
prizefighter.
I love my cat,
all right?
Anyway, if you
haven't, go to that main page and click the link to "My Work" to find some
fics, a short story or two, and a LOT of poetry. I've written more than
what you can see there, but you know most of the stuff people write never
sees the light of day. I'm like that.
Other than that,
there's not much more to say. I'm far more complex than I've written on
this little incomplete bio, but it's hard to sum up seventeen years of
deep enriching experiences (and passing out three times) in a few HTML
pages. In closing, stick around, because I'll add to this occasionally,
enjoy what's on this site, and when the mysterious portal opens right in
front of you, it's good to toss a squirrel in first or something so you
don't pop out into deep space with no warning.
How
about emailing me with some feedback?
Back
to Left Of Nowhere |