Joshua Malbin is a writer living in Brooklyn. He is too old to be an enfant terrible. He is currently training to kick your ass and may be able to do so given another couple of years, but he also practices yoga daily so he might not want to. Consider yourself lucky, punk. Namaste. He is an avid amateur birdwatcher; drop him a note on Facebook and you might go warbler-hunting together in Prospect Park during migration season. He owes his sanity to his
girlfriend wife, his cat, and his SSRI. For over ten years he has had a plan to get the Chinese character for “pretentious” tattooed on his arm, and someday he will screw up the courage to do it. For a time in college he kept his hair in braided pigtails and refused to wear underwear. Later he discovered boxer briefs and started going bald. He can ride a horse and wrestle a steer to the ground for branding, but he can’t throw a rope worth beans, so he could never make it as a cowboy. He believes that although Twitterlike services may well endure, Twitter itself will soon go the way of Friendster. He guesses he was wrong about Twitter. He has visited 31 of the 50 states, plus Puerto Rico. His left foot is a half-size bigger than his right.
Please send offers of riches, representation, and writing gigs to joshuamalbin [at] gm&!l [dot] com. In fact, he is now on Twitter: @joshuamalbin.