Writer (of various sorts of fiction and, as professionally required, copy). Editor/copyeditor/proof reader (my own and others’ writings). Reader (catholic, if not Roman). Designer (as far as it goes). Seamster (out of practice these days). Gardener (presently sans garden, alackaday). Listener (to music, to friends, to crazy people). Commenter (not so much, really, though I do talk, perhaps too much, to the cats). Drinker (put-hair-on-your-chest* black coffee mostly, spiced with the occasional Earl Grey, pinot grigio, Campari, gin, or Irish whiskey). Smoker (I know, all right, so just be quiet). Dreamer (actually, I almost never recall my dreams). Ivy League grad (it’s true!). Tattooed and pierced person (you can take that on trust). Quasi Muslim (if, you know, I believed in God). Football fan (no, no, no, not American football: real football, what you call soccer). Gay man. Autobiographer? Not just no, fuck off and die no. * not that that’s worked for me, dammit