March 18, 1999

It was suggested to me today to write a book. So, as the people request, here is the first chapter.

Chapter One

This is my life. Quite often, people try to summarize their entire existence into a single word. That just isn't the case.

Life is about action, and my action is walking. Who I am and what I am is my walking. I think when I walk. The natural progression of feet echoes the linear train of my thoughts. Sometimes I feel my tongue move across my mouth, but not saying the words of my thoughts. Instead, it mimics as a third chorus the thoughts.

So, in all these walks, I think. About nothing in particular really. More often than not, it's just about what I am walking. I think of the rain beginning to fall, or how the right theme music would be good now. I consider the proper staging of this poignant moment for either a novel's page or the silver screen.

As it all comes down, I see two conclusions. One, I don't care for ice cream all that much (perhaps inspired by a melting cone of a sidewalk) so therefore I am un-American. And two, the only audience I my thoughts and walks are meant for is me.

Thus, this is the last chapter of my book as well as the first. What I have to say in this world is not about permanence or education or lasting or propping up a wobbly chair... that's what books are for. What I write for is the moment... my moment.

Perhaps in the end, all my words will be nothing more than graffiti on the bathroom wall of existence. Everyone reads graffiti, but not everyone reads "Moby Dick."