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)

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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! 

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