Hey! Look what my treadmill can do! This tells you everything you need to know, and likely explains the multiple chins in the photo above it. Ah, well; I did it for art! And because that friggin' treadmill hates me.
Truthfully, it's not me it hates, so much as the idea that I was raised on Long Island with all those beautiful girls and those amazing beaches, and yet I still let myself go. It likes to groan when I get on (like I haven't heard that before!) which is pretty damn condescending if you think about it.
Because I grew up on Long Island I have a certain perspective on things that came with the neighborhood; a certain, "Screw you, I'm pulling the plug!" fatalism most of us can trace back to the day the damn Dodgers left Brooklyn, forcing our families to share-crop a quarter acre lawn out in Suffolk County somewhere; a fatalism that comes from being a Mets fan. This fatalism informs my work, as much as my disdain for the Yankees.
When I'm not pulling the plug on this machine or making shit up, I spend my time texting marital advice to my lovely wife Robin, and career mistakes to my beautiful daughters, Casey and Summer. (I might have just made that up)
Finally, because people everywhere seem to long for direction in their lives, I offer this: Buy my damn books and get a little in the mud with me!