I was born in Metropolitan Hospital on the morning of December 31, 1967 to Phyllis and Robert Levine. My nickname until the sixth grade was "Newt". After sixth grade I was known as "Elvis" and "Latrine" thanks to my long side burns and last name respectively. There was one kid who called me "Beverly", but it never caught on. I used to be able to identify by title any episode of Star Trek after seeing the first 60 seconds. I am only 5'7", but I look a little taller. I once got a traffic ticket for riding my bike over the Brooklyn Bridge. I don't smoke or drink, but I more than make up for it in other ways. My middle name is Matthew. I always spell it with two T's. I don't know how it's spelled on my birth certificate, I've never checked. I don't eat chicken or anything with mayonnaise on it. I once was playing with my sister in our house when she was about four years old and I was about six. We were arguing over weather cats really always land on their feet. I think this is a common argument between siblings our age. I don't remember if I was arguing pro-feet or anti-feet, but I do remember that I was absolutely sure that my position was correct. She began dangling our cat, Puddy, over the banister, gesturing as if she was about to drop him and settle the matter once for all. I teased her, saying she'd never really drop the cat because she knew that it would prove her wrong. As if in slow motion, I remember looking at her hand as she released the cat and then watching in horror as the cat fell three flights down through the center space of the stairwell. The cat grazed the top of a radiator before hitting the floor and then quickly scurried away and out of sight. Here my recollection gets hazy. I do remember my dad taking the cat to the vet. I don't think he ever knew what happened, I guess he just assumed the cat fell or got in a fight with another animal. I have an exact picture in my mind of him carrying a box up the back stairs on his way home from the vet. I remember looking into the box and seeing what looked to my six year old eyes like a cat with no face. His entire face looked like one giant scab. You couldn't even tell where his mouth was. He was scared and cold and in pain. He was never the same cat after that. I was never the same either. ###