Sage Moonbliss

Backstory

Born Kyle Benjamin Mathers in Temecula, California, Sage was once a C-student with mild scoliosis, a chinstrap beard, and a marketing degree he never quite finished. His early 20s were spent in a rotating haze of bong water, softcore conspiracy theories, and niche Reddit threads about rewilding masculinity. He briefly sold artisanal protein powder through a pyramid scheme called VitalPeak until the founder fled to Bali, leaving Kyle with 200 sachets of maca root dust and a collapsed sense of identity.

The turning point came at Burning Man in 2015. Kyle consumed an unsafe amount of mushrooms, fell asleep inside a broken solar tent, and was awakened by a woman named Starbeam whispering that his aura “tasted like damp capitalism.” He wept for nine hours, renamed himself Sage Moonbliss, and burned his birth certificate in a decorative bowl. That night, he also learned what polyamory was, poorly.

He travelled for a while — squatting in yurts, volunteering at questionable permaculture farms, briefly joining a tantric theatre troupe in Oregon, where he was fired for “emotional colonisation.” Along the way, he learned to ferment things, misquote Rumi, and weaponise empathy to get laid. His diet changed with the seasons, the moon, and whoever he was dating.

He ended up in New York after misreading a flyer for “Conscious Masculinity Thursdays” (it was a debt counselling group). He stayed anyway. These days, he lives in the shared backroom of a Brooklyn crystal shop, offers “chakra resets” for sliding-scale donations, and considers Dick & Marge a sacred text. He believes Dick is “an unhealed father wound wrapped in performative ego,” but refers to Marge as “an untapped well of divine rage.” He still has Starbeam’s scarf. It smells like incense, heartbreak, and expired spirulina.

Personality

Sage is mid-30s, glassy-eyed, and committed to sandals, even when the law, weather, or common sense disagree. He speaks slowly, with a dreamy cadence, like he’s halfway through a meditation and halfway through forgetting what he was saying. His entire identity is now kale-forward, weed-scented, and sexually strategic.

He’s fanatically vegan — but not because of ethics, not really. He became vegan after noticing how many free-spirited women reacted positively when he brought up sprouted chickpea hummus and raw cacao zucchini brownies. Within a month, he owned hemp trousers, a tambourine, and three unlicensed kombucha scoby jars. Sage will interrupt conversations to suggest “a lemon tahini drizzle”, even if no one is cooking. He preaches non-violence, but once tried to fistfight a bouncer who confiscated his vape pen. He calls everyone “sister” or “brother,” especially people he’s trying to sleep with.

He attends Dick and Marge desperate to get a few minutes with Dick to share his kale recipes, convinced that if Dick ever uses them on air, the viral “spillover effect” will make him famous. He believes “the media is a vibration field, man.” He has no patience for Marge whatsoever — he thinks her scepticism “kills the vibe”.