"What's Going On With The Book?"

 

 

Let me tell you a story that isn't in the book.

An old friend of mine, Ken Peplowski, is an accomplished jazz musician. He came up in Benny Goodman's band, played with Dick Hyman, Anat Cohen, Bucky Pizzarelli, Buddy Rich too, I think. He made music with many great New Orleans musicians including Wycliffe Gordon and Herlin Riley, not to mention soundtracking a few Woody Allen films, including "Sweet & Lowdown." He is also one of the funniest people I have ever met. But when he first got an iPod, he needed to call me every day. Some days, he'd call two and three times, distressed.

"Why can't I import this CD? Why won't the file drag into the iPod? Why is there no sound? Why won't the song titles come up?" 

And every day, I'd explain it slowly and patiently, walking him through it, step by step, to no avail. One day, he called and asked the same question I answered a day or two earlier and I exploded. 

"I JUST EXPLAINED THIS TO YOU! ARE YOU NOT PAYING ATTENTION?" 

Calmly, he said, "Play anything on the clarinet."

I laughed for about 15 minutes, but I also learned my lesson. He just couldn't grasp iTunes. And that was okay, because I couldn't play the clarinet.

I dropped out of high school midway through my junior year, even though I finished at the very top of all students after eight years of Catholic grade school, and was given a partial scholarship. I was an A student with a high I.Q., but a low tolerance for bullshit and the unjust and mostly inept faculty that bullied us all, day after day. (There's more about this in detail in the book!) I excelled in English and actually taught my junior English class one morning at the request of my teacher, Mr. Granat. He needed a personal day and chose to forego a substitute by putting the class in my hands. 

"Just talk to them. I guarantee they will listen. You have a lot to say." 

The next day, about a quarter of the room chose to skip "my class." But those that stayed were on uncharacteristically good behavior. This was a golden opportunity to throw pencils and books at me.  But it didn't happen. My topic? "Why is violence accepted in film more than sex is?" Man, did they have a lot to say. I had never witnessed Granat's English class this rapt. The following day, they handed in short essays to Mr. Granat based on our discussion. I believe it was a first for Sheepshead Bay High School and certainly a first for me. For the rest of the day, I thought, "I'd love to teach high school English."

Math and science, on the other hand, did me in. They were my kryptonite. It wasn't just me consistently failing to hand in algebra and trigonometry assignments due to any type of comprehension, or the unwillingness to dissect a puppy. (Or maybe it wasn't a puppy. It was a long time ago.) It was what being subjected to those classes did to me physically. I couldn't grasp any of it, and as a result, began having debilitating panic attacks. (There's more on that in the book, as well.)  I dropped out completely. I am sure there were many around me in high school who excelled at science and math, but hated and failed English. Then of course, there were those who excelled at everything and have become doctors, lawyers, astronauts and engineers. But I bet they still can't write a book.

 

But I digress.

I can't figure out how to self-publish. I make the attempt. I begin the process and within seconds, I am back in high school and the symptoms come on strong. Burning and throbbing temples, tightness in my chest, dead arms and tingling fingers, temporary blindness. You might as well ask me to perform an appendectomy. When I asked for help with the project, only two people came to the rescue, but neither could complete the process. Many simply don't have the willingness or the time, and who can blame them? This is not their book. People have their own lives and their own symptoms.

"People self-publish all the time, right? I bet some are even dumber than you."

One of my best friends said that to me over drinks at the Broome Street Bar one night and that made me laugh for 15 minutes, as well. And it's true. But that hardly matters. I can cook really well and I bet some readers can't boil an egg. This is the way life works.

It began 14 years ago. I got distracted for a few years but then I went all in in 2020 when the world shut down. I did the work. I had the skill. I wrote the book. 

I need someone to do the rest. 

Now before anyone starts thinking I am some entitled creep who believes he deserves to have his book published, please understand, that is not what this is at all. What this is, is a combination of incompetence mixed with the daily struggles of trying to make a living in what seems to be a dying vinyl business, maintaining a blog, losing sleep when bills don't get paid, ICE raids, Epstein Files, government shutdowns and more debilitating panic attacks. I simply can't see straight most of the time, and so I abandon all efforts for the sake of my health. 

 

If you've never had a panic attack, this might seem like a crock of shit to you. That's okay. I don't need you to believe me because the people who do suffer from anxiety, will understand completely. Again, this is the way life works.

 

But there is also this.

 

No one asks a musician who just recorded his first album to learn how to use a disc cutting lathe. He hands in the tapes and other people put the record out, in a nice sleeve, sometimes on colored vinyl. 

So...

"What's going on with the book?"

 

It's been written and rewritten and edited and rewritten and edited again, and I'm sure a number of readers will think it stinks. But I also believe some of you will love it. 

 

In Woody Allen’s film “Midnight In Paris,” the lead character played by Owen Wilson goes back in time and asks Ernest Hemingway if he would read his novel because he wanted an opinion. Hemingway replies, “I hate it.” Wilson replies, “But you haven’t even read it.” Hemingway then says, “If it’s bad, I’ll hate it because I hate bad writing. If it’s good, I’ll be envious and hate it all the more.” 

 

I think my book is entertaining. I think there is some great writing in it. I am very excited about having it read. It might even come out one day, in paperback, with that great book cover. But if left up to me, it's unlikely, or at least that is how it feels like right now.