Hi, I’d like to introduce myselves…

After spending the entire day fighting with my alter egos, Narcissus and Eeyore, I was ready to give up on writing a bio.

I flew through paragraphs of self-righteous, conceited, and delusional descriptions of myself before peddling back into self-loathing and disgust at my inflated self-image. I then hopped from one persona to the other, for several hours, trying to reconcile my confidence with true perspective (If you think you’re a good writer, you haven’t read enough). This microscopic reflection of my entire life exhausted any strong feelings I had in either direction and forced me to tell the truth instead:

Christina M. Grey is an alien princess from the planet of unEe-chiview. After losing a bet with her stepmother, Audrioles, she was banished to this galaxy to inhabit the body of an Earthling female. This cruel punishment for questioning the wisdom of her queen has been the setting for a trove of adventures, ironically, in curiosity.

Because she was born into the Royal Family of ickZelms, Her Highness is often perplexed and devastated by the lack of worship she receives from friends and lovers on Earth (and hilarity ensues). She uses these fantastic expectations and their inevitable consequences as material for her musical writing, which she offers as prayers to the gods, Truth and Sound, of her native universe, in hopes of being blessed with other members of a species like her own.

The princess crafts her thoughtful poetry from observations as a stranger on this planet and interactions with its inhabitants, confessing dismay and confusion, longing and frustration, delusions of grandeur, and the innate happiness of an eccentric soul in a hostile environment. The sensuous nature of her poems arises from extended periods of isolation, subsequent hypersensitivity to light, and sociopathic desire.

Her Majesty enjoys drinking carrot juice and dancing alone. She also enjoys silence, where she can be reborn. She dreams of one day building the perfect swing set for adults. She questions every moment, but forgets the answers past.


Say it. Don't spay it.

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