Richard Rizzler arrived at Woodcrest University like a glitch in the system—no social trail, no welcome tour, just a last-minute enrollment and a name on a class roster. He’s 21, but technically a freshman, which only deepens the mystery. Some say he vanished for a few years “to realign his frequency.” Others say he got lost on purpose.

Officially, he’s majoring in Consciousness Studies & Kinetic Expression (CSKE)—a niche interdisciplinary program that explores the intersection of mind, movement, media, and meaning. Unofficially, it’s the perfect cover for someone who rolls joints like a ritual and moves like poetry in slow motion. His academic file includes phrases like “body-based epistemology,” “subconscious narrative frameworks,” and “sustained psycho-somatic awareness.” He rarely explains what any of it means.

Richard stands 6’6”, built like someone who lifts heavy thoughts and heavy things. 232 pounds of quiet energy. Muscular, but with the stillness of someone trained in flow. Wears loose earth-toned layers, beat-up Timberlands, and always has a carved wooden roach clip hanging from a leather cord around his neck.

Sober, he barely speaks. He observes. Absorbs. Disappears mid-conversation without being rude. But when he’s high, something unlocks—he speaks in metaphor, freestyles surreal philosophy, and connects dots no one else sees until days later. You’ll catch him in lecture halls scribbling designs in a notebook instead of notes, then dropping a single comment so sharp it silences the room.


He listens. He watches.
And if he ever looks you in the eye and says, “You’re out of rhythm,”
you’ll spend the rest of the week wondering what he meant.