The author, in the spirit of true artisanship, would prefer to refer to himself in the third person as that, obviously, there are three distinct facets to his artistic person worth mentioning: his musical person, his literary person, and his fictional person.
You may attempt to contact the elusive Mr. Timm — good luck!
his musical person
Damon is not particularly fond of his musical person and often wishes he would just go away for he scares him terribly and makes him do things that are uncomfortable and embarrassing. Namely: writing music and singing it aloud.
This self-loathing stems from considerable trauma as both a child and young adult brought upon mostly himself and partially by his friends and family. In short: Damon has always been a terrible singer and musician and this fact was made known to him often by his own ears and the ears of others.
Ever persistent, he is who he is today for no reason other than foolishness. He would like to be a rock star one day but can’t sing in a suitable key for any length of time.
his literary person
Slightly more tolerated than his musical person, this side of his psyche is often found to be typing things that only he, himself, finds clever and amusing. This gives him some pleasure and he has been known to type a considerable amount.
His literary person has somehow managed to finish one novel (that no one dares read), significantly complete another (which everyone wants to read but he will not allow because he is bitter about his first novel) and one travelogue/memoir (which is available for all to hear and read because it is funny and he would like to make money one day writing instead of just enemies).
He continues to write only because he enjoys laughter and most people he does not find funny. He would like to be author one day if he were allowed to travel and around and lecture people on the art of life and comedy.
his fictional person
Though born a Baron and of extraordinary royalty Damon was exiled from his own country and forced to live amongst a group of wild Alpacas for twelve years in the foothills of Ben Nevis; despite his caring attitude and giving nature, the Alpacas eventually grew weary of his ceaseless snoring and abandoned him one cold night. He is still recovering from the psychological stress caused by being rejected by a furry animal. Afterward, he moved to New England where he covertly squeezed himself into a large family where he remained unnoticed for all time. There he doubled as a son and brother to a great number of siblings and lesser number of parents.
He likes eggs, shoveling snow, and watching birds molt.
He does not like Alpacas.