64 characteristics I’m looking for in a relationship

Posted by – August 15, 2018 2:54 pm

A lot of people have been asking me lately what my type is; what I’m looking for in a relationship. I never know what to say in the moment. Luckily we have twitter to lay out the facts. Some of these may seem silly, or sarcastic, but I assure you, they were all tweeted in a moment of genuine angst derived from an overarching fear of dying alone.

Chicago at night

Posted by – June 27, 2017 10:47 pm

I originally wrote this on July 17th, 2011, at 2:34 in the morning:

Do you ever sit and just look out your window?
What do you see? Where does your mind go?
Do you think beyond the streets and sidewalks below?
Do you consider the multitudes of people beyond your lines of sight?
The trees, and animals. Nature. Distant land, different from your locality?
Can you hear the city outside?
What do you pick out?
The sounds of cars, the distinctiveness of buses?
Voices. Are they excited? Maybe a laugh?
Can you hear a dog barking?
Do you listen to the noises coming over the rooftops?
How far can you stretch your ears out into the city of sound?
At what distance does it just become noise?
Do you hear that hum?
Do you look up at the sky?
What is up there? Clouds?
Do airplanes fly above your window?
Is it night? Is there a moon?
Can you see beyond the city glow?
Who else is looking up with you?

I loved the apartment I lived in at the time for its bedroom window with a view of the moon.

In a lot of ways, I am different now than I was then, but in this, I still feel the same.

On Marching

Posted by – January 20, 2017 3:32 pm

On Saturday, January 21st, 2017 — a day after the inauguration of our 45th President — I plan to attend the Women’s March in Chicago.

As a straight, white male, I think it is critically important to state my reasons for attending this march, for it is not my march. I do not view this as a protest against the new President, per se, so much as a march in defense of, and support for, marginalized and maligned communities in Chicago and the country.

For this reason, I will not bring a sign to wave, or dress to express a personal agenda. I will not be marching because I have something to shout to the world. Rather, I will march to show my support to the members of those communities who are there to voice their very real fears and frustrations. I will lend my voice to their calls, when asked, but more importantly I will simply walk alongside them, and make a point to listen and hopefully learn, and turn that knowledge into action further down the road.

I Support A Progressive State Income Tax

Posted by – July 9, 2015 11:47 am

A quick and simple e-mail I just sent to my Illinois State Representative Will Guzzardi and State Senator Iris Y. Martinez:

Representative Guzzardi and Senator Martinez,

I am a 34 year old lifelong Chicagoan and constituent of yours, currently living in Logan Square. I’m writing you today out of frustration with our new Governor. Personally, I view him as the biggest roadblock to compromise causing this stalemate, even as he tries to paint Speaker Madigan as the cause.

Yesterday, Governor Rauner told the legislature that if they didn’t want to vote on his so-called “turnaround agenda,” then they should go ahead and vote to raise taxes. Guess what? I think that’s a GREAT IDEA!

I believe that one of the best ways we can put our state back on the road to financial stability would be to adopt a progressive, graduated state income tax. Aside from putting us more in line with the reasonable tax rates of most of the rest of the states, it would also be a fairer, more equitable way to spread the tax burden across all economic classes in the state of Illinois.

I ask that you seek out your like-minded colleagues, and add your support to passing a fairer, progressive state income tax.
Thank you,

Peter Quinn Fuller

[address and phone number redacted]


If you would like to contact your state legislators, please visit to find out how.

Mr. Lincoln’s Memorial

Posted by – October 4, 2014 7:36 pm

I spent some time at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., today. Below is an entry I wrote in my pocket diary:


Saturday, October 4th, 2014

I sit in the North end of the Lincoln Memorial. I sit in silence, not simply because I am alone, in fact, I am surrounded by hundreds of others, from all over this country, and the world. I sit in silence born of reflection.

For years now, I have abhorred war, and violence of any kind. Washington is a city obsessed with war, past, present and future.

All presidents tell the world how much they, too, deplore war, even as they wage it, but in Abraham Lincoln, I feel we had a President who truly did loathe and regret the violence over which he presided.

This memorial is a fitting tribute to the man, as well as a better place to honor the soldiers of all nations and of all wars, than any memorial elsewhere in this city.

I sit in silence to honor him, and all of them.


Posted by – August 17, 2014 1:23 am

An excerpt from a lengthy, emotional near stream of consciousness, written (scrawled?) in ink on 8/8/2014, sometime, transcribed exactly

I’m somewhere over Arizona right now. Or maybe California or Nevada? I know I have a gps on my phone, but I don’t want to ruin the mystery. The land below is brown, that’s all that matters. I’m above the desert. The terrain I love. The west. I love it. God’s country. I think of Kerouac. I think of U2 and Steinbeck. I want to see all of this land, and beyond. Today I am going to Portland. Tomorrow Seattle. Where next? I can’t wait to see the Big Trees next week. I ordered a gin and tonic.

That is one hell of a strong drink! The people around me are probably questioning my decision to begin drinking at 8am or whatever time it is out here. Little do they know I’ve been up for seven hours now.

The man sitting next to me seems very Arizona. He has a sheriff’s mustache and a slightly grizzled look. White, probably 50s. Lean and weathered. He is wearing a windbreaker over a nice shirt, with shorts. White socks, sneakers. He has a hat on, with his sunglasses perched on the brim, and a pair of bifocals on his nose. He has a laptop resting awkwardly on his crossed legs, a feat I myself am able to achieve as we are seated in an exit row.

He pecks at his keyboard with both index fingers. It’s an older model. A PC. He rubs his stubbled chin every so often as he looks at whatever is displeasing him on the screen. I can tell he is in Excel, possibly 2007, but can’t exactly see the data.

He is drinking black coffee, his 3rd cup in 45 minutes and just the third of no doubt countless others since whenever and wherever he woke up this morning. His coffee makes me enjoy my gin even more.