Anthony Pellizzeri

Once in a lifetime an author comes along who defines the hopes, dreams and aspirations of his generation. Anthony Pellizzeri is NOT that author. Nor does he know who that author is, or where you can find his/her/ze/they/its/fits book. What he does know is that all of us harbor some potential for greatness and must from time-to-time attempt to achieve it.. Born of humble beginning and raise by good people to do good things he somehow ended up teaching sign language to the blind, and selling ice to the Eskimos, before heading out west to seek his demise in that vast intellectual wasteland known as Southern California. Unaccustomed to the mild weather and the love of someone like way too intellect, and totally too good for him, he thrived, grew old, fat and un-characteristically happy. Finding happiness should have made him, well happy, but instead he craved the type of rejection others could only dream of, so he turned to writing, which when combined with music and a need for attention lead him to his current vocation as a singer/songwriter/poet. As luck would have it, he fell in with a crowd of bohemian ne'er-do-wells who share his love of mirth, merriment, and music making this his final stop on the long road to eventual senility and death.