I grew up in what could be called an atmosphere of well-intentioned dysfunction. The product of a summer fling, I was raised in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. by my Greek grandparents, dominated by my volatile grandmother. Later, I lived with my mother and the man she married when I was four years old, who would eventually adopt me. He was an aspiring lounge singer and a writer and it is he who would instill in me a love of music, language and stories. He and his buddies were quick-witted and funny. Unfortunately, they were also alcoholics. more... See more text