"Special Agent Sunshine"

At night I lie awake in bed staring aimlessly at ceilings, at walls, at sheets, dreaming of an epic romance, a beautiful love that engulfs me in its scope and drive and fire. I dream of falling into such a story. I think things these because...well, I don't know, the movie pictures? Those guys and gals just look so swell high kickin' in gay Paris. No it's not the movie pictures, but you can't be too sure of anything now. And the most fervent believer can never pray for things they can't see without feeling the slightest tinge of doubt in their words. Which makes it all the more ridiculous when, hey, the falling and the story isn't an entitlement. It's not earned, it's not paid for. Which begs the question what exactly the cost would be. How much and how do I pay? Eh, reality is reality. Meanwhile, I'm gonna concern myself with the love stories here and now. I don't believe this is slumming it, quite the opposite. In the past two nights I have seen the full force of love on one of the grandest scales of human achievement. I am virtually mobbed by blessing and good will by those around me. Tomorrow is not a promise, it's a wish. I'll hold onto that for the time being. He flipped into a somersault, right in the middle of the solo. This is love's work.

"Well you can't have that"

What is it about post 3:00 AM? Why is that when all the good work gets done? I swear to you, David Letterman can add the word "the" to literally ANYTHING. Evidently, The Hold Steady's latest album is entitled "The Stay Positive" I don't know if Dave was deprived of the word "the" when he was a young child, if his mother insisted that he say a or an at all times and it's only now in his edge-teetering senility that he's getting all his pent-up "the" frustration, like when an over-disciplined schoolgirl goes to college and the wheels fall off the wagon (as does the girl in most cases) I don't know what his muffin is on this, but in the sentence "The kids, they love the Oprah" there's about two to three words in there that don't need to be. What's frustrating about Allison Janney is that she got mega-hott right when Aaron Benjamin left the palace. So now I equate hott C.J. with non-Sorkin C.J., two diametrically opposed qualities, to be sure. I saw this and the caption read: GROW UP, NETFLIX

"I was in the room"

Welcome to ten minutes ago. How's the weather back then? I want someone to talk to about the supreme irony of Aaron Sorkin's two verses and a chorus on the fortune-cookie candidacy. That'll get me from morning to night. Sometimes the fun is getting night to morning. That's where the real things happen sometimes. Verba movent, Exempla trahunt There was a girl named Shannon, and we were friends for a brief time and when she told me about Kristin Chenoweth joining the West Wing in Season 6, I thought to myself "Some Asian chick is joining the West Wing?" Little did I know...

"No, but that's funny, J"

I need to be good at things. I don't desire to master all there is to master nor do I desire flaunt such mastery should it occur incidentally. But I just need to have a basic, core level of skill at things which would require it. I don't need to pen a heartbreaking trilogy of novels but I need to make her smile at something I wrote down. I don't need to be able to benchpress an SUV but I need to look presentable in summer clothes. I don't need to be able to Mad Max my way across the country but I want to find a highway in a single try. Something's gone wrong. And in this moment I am filled with the only sense of disappointment I am entitled to, the disappoint of self. I had a very detailed dream about Mary-Louise Parker last night.

"I'm Toby Ziegler. I work at the White House"

I just watched one of the saddest, most tragic things I've ever seen in my life. I just watched 7A WF 83429, the 5th Season premiere of The West Wing. The abysmal gap between greatness and hackery of the highest order was just one episode. The 4th Season ends on Commencement and 25 and opens on 7A WF 82429. All these years I've known and loved these episodes, the Sorkin episodes, 86 episodes of near unmitigated triumph of drama and comedy and humanity, art at its highest caliber. And then it committed an irrevocable sin. In the course of an episode, it transformed itself from all those things I just said into a television show. All I could see on the screen was waste. These actors, that set, those stakes, this beautifully rendered stew that was missing the one ingredient that elevated it from service to sublime. One time, a group of uncommonly talented people came together. There was a meeting of the minds and for four years these people were led to unprecedented levels of achievement by two men blessed with inspiration. One day, the men left, and the people were lost. The tragedy isn't in lack of quality but rather the chilling absence of the extraordinary.

"Fiddler"

"I don't take it personally" would be an excellent mantra to adopt. Also, I think the internet is wonderful in ways. I think it's the ultimate leveling of the playing field and I think it is, from time to time, an instrument of absolute democracy. Just look at it, it is the triumph of the information. And it is a just system. You can find most anything on the spectrum of human capacity on the internet, including the golden nuggets one would spend a lifetime in a library looking for and 10 times as many pieces written by people who pride themselves writers and read by people who are then forced to expand our definition of a writer to one who can spell, and sometimes not even that. Haha, I'm rotten selfish about the craziest things. That's changed, still changing, but it's gotta just go away. How do you flee from the crooked timber of humanity? How does one not embrace Look, I'm not saying our league is an all-star lineup by any means or measures whatsoever, but you if you wanna play you gotta play in our league. We measure that, we measure the capacity to do THAT. And sometimes we don't and sure, come out with us and sit there, just sit there and be there and say nothing that would suggest a mind worth loving. Give us your heart, we'll take your heart, but check whatever's in your head at the door and we're all better off.

"They don't want us to put up our map, Charlie"

People don't know you. They don't and if you go to bed comforted by the fact that there are people that really "get you" that aren't related to you or the Creator of the Universe, then I'd suggest reversing your position as soon as possible. I don't mean to be negative and I'm not trying to be pessimistic about the nature of human relationships, but people don't know you. People know as much as they know about you, but they don't know you. They can understand fractions. Some understand larger fractions than others. Some are getting 1/3 and others settle at 2/9 or 1/10. It's never gonna be a whole number, it's never gonna be more than you know yourself or the whole number that only God could know. The mysteries of our souls and our identities remain in that fraction, the ones that spouses of the closest kind long a lifetime to know and never can. The piece that no one can get to and never will. But we keep our company and we content ourselves with people amongst us. Sometimes having many people understand many different fractions helps. We can take those fractions and add up to something resembling an entire human experience among a group. This person understands the part of me that thinks about spirituality and this person understands how the world works the way I do. This person understands my cynicism with this and that person over there can relate to my undying idealism for that. We can add fractions together, we can spread a bunch of small portions or concentrate on making larger pieces of pie, and we understand that it'll never be the whole, but we can try and add as high as possible. Now wouldn't be a bad time to start praying for a Medea to my Jackass.

"Maybe maybe maybe"

Where are they? If this is less then where are the ones worth focusing on? Where are the hearts and minds worth loving? It's a trick question of course because of course they're all worth loving. My brother's got a mind that any good woman could love and a heart that everyone SHOULD love. My sister's heart, strength, and perserverance are an example. My father's got a compassion two sizes to large to know how to communicate. And my mother's got all of the above. Your family's your family but wouldn't it be wonderful to create a family of friends that functioned similarly? I'm given ceaseless loyalty and kindness from mine. And Jordan, Cory, Grant, Kelsey, and Katie now understand the thing about me that I thought was gonna make an individual. But it's not rock stars and TV shows that make us people. It is Bruce, it is Sorkin that can inform a life but may NOT have the jurisdiction to dictate what it is, what a person is. God is the higher power here. It is God that sets a spirit free. It is not homogenized, it is not a boring thing, it is not a straight laced Sunday school teacher. The spirit is free through God and is the most beautiful. We are an ugly people and we find our beauty not through music but through a God that would allow it.

Our boy

Thunder Road, Backstreets, Meeting Across the River, Jungeland, Because the Night, New York City Serenade, The Ties That Bind, The Promised Land, Don't Look Back, Loose Ends, Be True, Rosalita, Kitty's Back, I'll Work For Your Love, and now Sandy. One of the pillars of the sonic foundation of E Street has crumbled under the weight of the world. The other has stood steady and strong. 59 years ago today. THANK U ROY!