When I first entertained the idea of writing a book, two things immediately ran through my mind.
First thing: Write?
Could I possibly sit down at my trusty laptop and create an emotionally stirring and spiritually stimulating literary masterpiece to entertain and dare I say influence the mind of a fellow human being?
Second Thing: Book?
I must admit I was unfamiliar with the word. I was told they had something to do with paper, and I do remember owning one when I was a kid, but I couldn't tell you what one looks like. Perhaps that explains the funny looks I get from the staff at Barnes And Noble when I walk in an ask them where the cake aisle is located.
I am happy to say I have put that little problem behind me, and now the fruit of my intense labor is now in you hands, dear reader. Yet after all the time I have spent on writing my bike - oops, sorry, book. I still keep getting that mixed up. After all the time I have spent on writing my book, I still find it hard to believe I have achieved the distinguished title of author. I am an author! Yet another hat I have worn in my topsy turvy life. I think it will go really well with the others I have stored in the hall closet of my mind, like Raconteur, Lover, Victim, Defendant, Patient, Client, Gypsy, Tramp, Thief, Joker, Smoker, Midnight Toker, and, from a hazy period back in 1987, Meredith.
What should you, dear reader, have to look forward to?
I will be your personal guide through the incredible potpourri that is my life. It's funny, recently a friend asked me to sum up my life in a sentence. Mentally, I thumbed through some of the experiences that shaped and molded my life. Growing up on my Grandad's kitty ranch in Montana, the years of Kindergarten, the birth of my two sons, Prince and Prince Michael, my introduction to rhythmic gymnastics, Crystal Pepsi, and my brief but turbulent marriage to that chick on "Boy Meets World", these and hundreds other swirled through my head faster and faster, round and round hither and yon, until I finally said proudly to my colleague…
"I like peas."
Yeah, I don't know what it means either. Maybe this is why they make me eat with special utensils whenever I go out somewhere.
Anyhoo, here's a book (whew!) that I wrote. Hope you like it. I'd like to say I typed it myself, but hey, I'm lucky if I know how to work a chair.
Tom Levier lives in New York City. He once shot a man just for snoring too loud.