Dear Daniel,
Some of my first contact with the world of books was with your books, especially Lizard Music, Snarkout Boys, The Neddiad, and Alan Mendelssohn. This was all from the time I was one. You may have intended these books to be facetious, Daniel, but for years, your books were my expectation of the workings of the Real World. Avocado computers? Sure! Giant turtles? Sure! Musical lizards? All righty! You existed, and my father’s job used to be as a juggler who wore a hat shaped like a chicken, so why couldn’t the rest be real? This, understandably, changed me into the warped, crazy individual I have become, and will ever be, a human being who gets excited over the little hot dog stand in Hoboken Terminal (it’s still there) and who, early in life, adopted a religion made up of giant chickens, oriental gardens, and inter-dimensional superhighways. It was also you who helped, with Robert Nifkin, provide me with the courage to ask that I be placed anywhere but a public high school. For this, I feel compelled to offer my thanks to you for making me who I am today.
Thanks for the thanks. You're welcome, as long as you understand all I was doing was entertaining myself while making a modest dollar. You probably get more out of the books than I knowingly put in. Still, it's nice that some people who are good at finding meaning found meaning in my stuff.
