I needed a shot in the arm. I got Michael Stipe. And I feel fine. I got a phone call around four o’clock. “If you’re fanatical enough to see REM two nights in a row, I just came across a pair of tickets for tonight.” Ends up, I am fanatical enough. So I hitched a…

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We Are Made To Persist

I was out the door at 6:45 this morning. It was 42 degrees. I watched the sun rise over Sheep’s Meadow waiting for my running partner. The sky was clear. Everything was still. She overslept, so I ran alone. And while it was a bit of a chore, I felt so much better for the…

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Most mornings, I walk east on 47th Street. The sun rarely fails to greet me there, squinting through the trees. And though it fades away earlier now, for that moment, all is right with the world, even if it isn’t.

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Ok, Why I have a non-sexual crush on cellist Julia Kent, and why I’m wearing a knight’s helmut (click click), in 100 words or less… She comes in, expecting to play on ‘California,’ ‘New York,’ ‘Shiver,’ and ‘Hollywood Arms.’ She nails three parts — melody, harmony, plus solo — on ‘Shiver,’ elevating melencholy to melen-muthafuckin’-choly.…

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