Fake -->


First I was born in 1977, in Lockport NY I think. Richard Aron Royer. Forenamed after my Grandfather father side, middle named after Elvis Aron Presley. Later, in first or second grade, my mother would start spelling my name "Ric", after the professional wrestler Ric "The Nature Boy" Flair, who was a household favorite. My mother and my sister saw him wrestle live in Windsor, Ontario when I was a baby, and they not only got to touch him as he exited the arena, but they have a napkin with his blood on it in the family album. When I was one my sister, Janelle (ten years older than me) dropped me on my head on the front steps of my house on Independence Avenue, Niagara Falls, NY. When I was two, I was Elvis for Halloween. I got sick when I was three and my mother, Toni (birthname Antoinette) said I almost died. I don’t believe her. When I was four, I was Elvis for Halloween. I don’t remember much of anything from my childhood until Ghostbusters came out in 1984; I was obsessed with it. I remember watching it over and over again at my grandmothers (Royer) house. My Grandma Royer was so quiet I never talked to her and forgot her first name. I really don’t remember much else of my childhood, I don’t remember a single meal, or even if I had my own room or not. I just remember that I had a toy-chest in the hallway and I had a fantastic dream about a pterodactyl bursting through the bathroom ceiling where there was a nun in my bathtub. It was near that toy-chest where my mother told me that God was watching me and that he knows whether or not I put toys away. This created a rather contentious relationship with God, whom I considered a Santa Claus without profitable return.
My father's name is Nevin George Royer. He worked at an abrasives plant for 30 years making sandpaper. I got expelled from Mt. Caramel (catholic school) and enrolled at St. Johns (catholic school). I started to make comedy shorts and play hockey with the kids in the neighborhood. I was taken to a child psychologist at some point because of my morbid imagination. Years later, I worked at Pizza Hut. Janet C. gave me my first blowjob. It happened on a Smurf blanket in the basement of my grandmothers (Tedesco) house while listening to Stone Temple Pilots. She told me later that night that she had anal sex several times before and it didn’t hurt, it just made her feel like she was constantly taking a shit. She used to visit me by taxi, I paid round trip. In high school I gave up baseball to play hockey. I was better at hockey. I became friends with this kid Chris Kundl, for some reason I think this is important. I hated him in high school, always picked on him. I think we even got into a fist fight once and he cried just because he was in a fight. Maybe it wasn't me, actually I think he was fighting someone else. Maybe he didn't even fight. But he cried, that I remember. Now I love him. When I was 20 I wrote and directed my first play, "Story" and it was terrible. The following year I started a performance group called RANT, which was based on a creating original, ensemble work. I’m pretty sure our first show was both embarrassingly bad and the most important thing I had done at that point in my life. I wrote a bunch of chapbooks, hung out with better writers than myself, stopped doing theatre and started performing. I fell in love with a librarian. I am a Scorpio. Then I moved to Baltimore, then England. While in England I watched the sun set over the Moors. We were driving away from it, Liam stopped the car and I thought, "why are we stopping for a sunset?" It is the only sunset I can remember seeing.  When I returned to the States, it hurt. Then I got married. Then I got stopped being married. I wrote more books, organized shows, ran around like crazy. I was fine for a while, then years later: a nervous breakdown! That was heavy. Then I moved to Providence where I started a PhD in something at Brown University. What a stupid idea that was. So I got a job running a performance space again and I love my girlfriend.