Born and raised in the slightly toxic patch of central Long Island known as Bethpage, I moved to NYC as soon as I could and ended up spending my undergraduate years (and several thereafter) at New York University, manifestly failing to make all of those magical 'connections' that guidance counselors speak of in hushed tones in order to make you feel better about going into debt for the rest of your life.

During my freshman year, I met my future wife in an expository writing course on Punk Rock Semiotics. She wore a cape and I was duly smitten, although it took the better part of a decade for me to actually ask her on a date. By then she'd lost the cape, but not the savoir-faire that drew me to her in the first place.

Starting to date Tara was a bit like taking up an extreme sport: within a year we had both quit our jobs and resettled in Ireland, where we both worked on PhDs. One month before our final examinations we decided that instead of hitting the books it would be a much better idea to hit the Katrina-ravaged Gulf Coast with the Red Cross. If I had to put my life to date into screenplay form, this would definitely be the First Act Climax.

After the Gulf Coast, life seemed very short-- too short, really, to spend the better part of it in libraries and archives. We moved back to New York and Tara began running the NYCLU in Nassau County while I began work on my first feature film, Bachelor Party in the Bungalow of the Damned. It wasn't exactly a project that I had nursed at my bosom for years, but it seemed like a good idea to work in a genre that had a pretty loyal (and forgiving) audience. By making a splatter flick I figured that I stood a decent chance of selling it if and when I finished it. Turned out that I was right depending on how loosely you're willing to use the word 'sell'.

After finishing the movie I quit smoking, packed my bags, and moved to the Eternal City, Rome-- the one place in the world that's even more dysfunctional than the USA. (Little known fact: it's named after the waiting time for the ATAC public transport system.) Rome suits me just fine, particularly since I quit quitting smoking: after seventh months of misery and blank pages I managed to squeeze out a book on pre-production for no-budget features and a new screenplay about the economic situation in Greece in short order- mostly while sitting my butt down at the Bar San Calisto with a relatively cool Peroni and as many Fortunas as my pockets will hold.

Now, however, I'm ready for my Second Act Climax.