Jake Horsley was born somewhere in the British Isles (in the Year of the Anti-Hero) into a wealthy and rigidly atheist environment. He discovered the joys of cinema while watching Where Eagles Dare on TV (by a curious case of synchronicity also the first film he can recall seeing in a theatre, many years previous); on finally figuring out the difference between Clint Eastwood and Richard Burton, his passion was consolidated. For a long time, Jaws was his favorite movie. He dabbled in film criticism and scriptwriting from an early age, but eventually became sidetracked by the world. He never went to college. He has spent the last ten years of his life rolling about and gathering no moss, and has lived at various times in the following locations: London; Edinburgh; New York City; Oaxaca, Mexico; Taos, New Mexico; Tangiers, Morocco; Pamplona, Spain; Paris, France, and, most recently, in Amsterdam, Holland. His next port of call he intended to be San Francisco, but was thwarted in his designs by U.S. immigration, due to a previous history of pot-smoking. He now lives in his own private Valhalla, somewhere in Central America. He very occasionally inhales. He has only ever held a single job in his life, for a period of six months: a dedicated seeker of all brand of experience, it seemed only fair that he experience the real world also, but quickly decided that it was not for him. Most of his spare time has been spent writing books that no one will read; he has recently completed a script based on the life of psycho-artist Sam Peckinpah, and is presently at work on a novel, based on his non-existent sex life. Besides movies, his interests include philosophy, psychology, mythology, paranoid awareness, and witchcraft. An undefeated seeker and incurable dreamer, his acceptance is that the quest is all, and its object of relative unimportance, provided only that it be unattainable. Like the fool riding his ox in search of oxen, he trundles on in search of Truth and Beauty. Like a solitary fish that swims endlessly through the ocean, seeking after this mysterious quality called water of which he has heard so much but never seen, he continues his merry march towards Armageddon, squinting at the invisibles, and grasping after the intangible. He does not expect to succeed: he is content merely to try.