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My Life With Migraine
Migraine is a mystery. Leaves no footprints, no fingerprints. Draw blood and search for an ID; some specific marker that immediately announces Here I am, doc; you got me.  But no marker. No nothing. A big zip.  So then; exactly what is Migraine? 
MY LIFE WITH MIGRAINE is my conversation with you; just the two of us; from the beginning when I opened my eyes and knew I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. 
Of how I tried to keep myself reasonably intact in the face of unremitting assaults. Of my years of psychotherapy and how that relates to Migraine; nailing loaded issues that feed the flame.
Every day.
A challenge? You bet, folks.
But I’m into it.
Never count me out. the title suggests, Levenstein presents his life as a cyclical and sometimes-nightmarish journey with pain: "Know me, know my Migraine," as he puts it. The...oddball style could alienate some readers yet makes this a striking and unusual read.
Kirkus Reviews
"Earle’s writing is vulnerable, vivid, brave and impactful.  He works to connect the dots by sharing his inner turmoil, digging in the dirt, in his search for answers to the migraine condition.  He gives voice to this invisible condition and reaffirms to those migraine sufferers, who share similar pains, fears and anxiety, that they are not alone."

David Sandler, LICSW 

Just Wait Till Your Father Gets Home
Dead but not quite; on the edge; slipping; sliding; almost gone. No will; no struggle; only his Uncle Morrie's love and fierce determination are there to  bring his dear nephew David back from the depths of despair; guide him through the life he's lived; reexplore his descent into hopelessness and then rebuild for him the possibility of hope; of return. Reliving in memory, in dreams and imagination the good the painful and the might have been; and ultimately with Uncle Morrie at the wheel, rising up and beginning to believe the possible; to recover his self; a future; from the almost end, back to where it all began. Let's have a cheer and a God bless Morris Stone, MD, PhD. the savior of David Miller's soul. 
You're Thinking Too Much
You'll Give Yourself a Headache
"7:00 A.M.
And it is really cold.
Wreck of a cab—only one he could flag down—isn't any warmer. An old Checker now rattling its way up Sixth Avenue, not missing a pothole. Exhaust pipe dragging, windows that don't quite make it to the top; heater making more noise than warm air. He might as well be in the street running alongside…"
Why meet this early? Lou wants to; and what that little shit wants he gets. "Lots to talk about, Adam; short week; clients depend upon us; can't let them down, eh?" Solace for Adam this Monday of Christmas week? A pastrami sandwich; on rye with Russian Dressing. For breakfast? You bet. For anytime. As for Eleanor Kingman; have to calm her down. Lou's in a rage; he's going to kill me, she says. Give me a break. Lou? Kill anybody? Nah. Mmm. I can already smell that pastrami sandwich.
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