As of this moment, I am engaged in a few works in progress: one of them is this which you are perusing.

Some of the stories will be there for anyone who arrives, and some will be available as an option yet to be determined. Down the line, my hope is to fashion a memoir—one which can be held in one’s hands—where many of the tales from my turn will find their home. 

And all these tales, real and not imagined, must now patiently share a space where a novel of fiction vies for the most precious of fleeting possessions: Time.

The story, a Fable of sorts, was born years ago in an empty apartment in Manhattan’s Theatre District, which was being prepared as a filming location. And this story has been the most patient of all, waiting so long and oh so eagerly for a life of its own.

And while so many of my remembrances are still vivid and well-formed, in the coming days, weeks, months, and, dare I say, years—the tales will be told. Each location put forth in “My Stories” will, in time, be populated with tales of what has happened to me since my very first memory. Some will be amusing, some disturbing, some harrowing, some sad, some joyful, and all — for good or bad, better or worse, will reflect my profound romance with this life.

If anything you have perused, read or listened to — thus far — has piqued your interest, hang in, and check in now and then. I will do my best to make it worthy of your time… and mine.