Greetings! from the eponymous protagonist of the “underground classic” Beginner's Luke ...

(paperback)

Haven’t heard of Beginner’s Luke? Well, that’s because it’s still underground. Relatively speaking. You’re forgiven. For now. But please, get your act together.

Seriously. Being imaginary, I can show you how to be anyone, go anywhere, and do anything. I taught my author, who can be maddeningly slow to learn, so surely I can help you!

Better yet, I can help you achieve your self-creative goals absolutely FREE.

How? Just download your complimentary copies of Books I-III of the Beginner’s Luke Series today! You’ll receive pure, unadulterated, unmitigated textual illumination. No patch, no inhaler, no Prozac, no gum. That stuff’s for sissies.

All you really need to get started on the Adventure of an imaginary lifetime is a willingness to consider the possibility that you, too, are a work of art. Sounds simple, but can be tricky. So let me be your guide! Then maybe someday soon you’ll have a great imaginary life, too.

Still not convinced? What have you got to lose? Read my reviews. Join the Beginner's Luke Book Club. Or just check out the Introduction to my fictional universe below.

To the Adventure!

Luke Soloman

First, I would like to thank my dear mother for her intense labor of love in delivering yours truly safe and sound into the world. I apologize for the pain I caused you, mother, on my rather late arrival. As you know better than anyone, I’m a slow learner—always running behind.

I would also like to thank my father for sparing his precious seed to co-create me. Let me take this opportunity to remind you, father, you still owe me for the not inconsiderable pleasure I afforded you on the glorious occasion of my conception. I’m prepared to accept cash, credit card, personal check, travelers cheque, money order, gold bullion, real estate or a sizable inheritance.


I would also like to thank the Academy. You guys don’t know me, but I think you’re really great. Keep up the good work!

Next, I would like to extend a special expression of gratitude to all my family, friends, lovers, teachers, employers and coworkers who one way or another, overtly or covertly, through thick and thin, encouraged me to keep writing this imaginary life. There aren’t many of you, which makes my appreciation all the greater.

I would also like to take this opportunity to recognize all my family, friends, lovers, teachers, employers and coworkers who one way or another, overtly or covertly, through thick and thin, attempted to derail my creative aspirations and mire me in the quotidian mediocrity to which you—you know who you are—have become hopelessly inured. There are a lot of you, more than I could count, which makes this, the Moment of penning my Acknowledgments, all the more satisfying.

Finally, I must say a word about the places where substantial parts of this work (play?) were composed. I mean specifically the Cafés of the World where I’ve whiled away so much of my time (and yours!) in the vain but amusing pursuit of capturing an ineffable existence: mine.

If I learned anything writing Beginner’s Luke, it was that contrary to myth, heaven is filled with cool little cafés with Leonard Cohen over hidden speakers, groovy abstract expressionist art on the walls and superior Java from obscure South American countries. I was born to sit out on the terrasses of such glorious establishments of leisure on such splendid afternoons, chain-sipping specialty caffeinated beverages while daydreaming impossible episodes in impossible places—

Excuse me, my cappuccino just arrived. I can’t tell you how thankful I am. I’d like to acknowledge this cappuccino. I sweeten it liberally with three sparkling sugar cubes, stir the tan frothing brew with the tiny silver spoon, hoist the cup with trembling anticipation to my lips and, smelling Italy, visions of panforte and biscotti dancing in my head, take a sip.

Ecstasy! The simple act of sitting here sipping this cappuccino is its own testament to my commitment to living the writer’s life. Which is to say: doing nothing but doing it exceedingly well. I’m so thankful for this ability that has taken me an entire imaginary lifetime to perfect.

I’m also thankful for the fine pair of legs strutting by just now on the sidewalk. You have to feel good knowing there are thighs like that in the world. A toast to the miniskirt’s inventor!

I raise my eyes and lock gazes with the proud owner of these exquisite limbs—and it’s almost like making love in this instant. The passion, though invisible, is nearly palpable beneath her stoic façade and my whole body tingles with glimpses of erotic encounters that could theoretically, but will probably never, occur.

There—it just happened again, with another set of eyes: the riveting glance, oxymoronic perhaps but with a rush like spontaneous combustion, then the looking away and the tragic vanishing forever. How I adore you, whoever you are!

By way of closing these Acknowledgments, I shall paraphrase one of my personal heroes, the great flâneur Baudelaire:

O you I could have loved!
O you who knew it!
O we who blew it!

Copyright (c) 2008 by Sol Luckman. All Rights Reserved.