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Everyone else is out getting their Sundance party on, and I’m inside watching a documentary. And what an spectacular documentary. I can’t tell you the last time I smiled for two hours staight. Or cried. Or felt this inspired. For “Wrestling With Angels,” Oscar-winning documentarian Freida Lee Mock spent three extraordinary years with one of…

Yeah, my condo has a hot tub. Yeah, I’m at the Sundance Film Festival. Yeah, it’s totally beautiful. Yeah, I’ve already been within two feet of Jennifer Anniston (Brad made a mistake). Yeah, I’ve already nearly bumped into Sting. But there’s no way I’m going to have a chance to sit in the aformentioned hot…

In twenty-four hours, I’ll be at 33,000 feet. I’m flying to Salt Lake City, then driving to Park City, to attend the Sundance Film Festival. And I’m kinda nervous. It’s not so much that I’m nervous about flying. I am. But that’s the price of entry. If the plane goes down, my brother knows what…

A few weeks ago, a poster for Equinox Fitness Clubs popped up on phone booths all over the city. It reads, “Life is outrunning lesser versions of yourself.” My initial reaction, as an Equinox member, a runner, and a student of life, was ‘Right on.’ But every time I’ve seen it since — especially walking…

If I could spend an afternoon with one person, living or dead, I think it would be Martin Luther King, Jr. You might have expected me to say Mister Rogers. And you might have been right. He was a remarkable man, quietly, patiently reminding us to be the best that we can be. I don’t…

I’ve never been a huge fan of the peace sign. Not the one that kids draw and, if they’re from the suburbs, mistake for the Mercedes logo. I’m talking about making a V with your pointer and middle fingers. We have it all wrong in America. Here it’s a lame-duck holdover from Woodstock. “Peace, man!”…

I stepped out of my office building and though, ‘Oh yeah, they called for rain tonight.’ Sure enough, rain was falling. Times Square was soaked. The sidewalks were choked with tourists. Garish lights reflected and collided on every surface. I dipped into my messenger bag and extracted a cheap umbrella. It’s shoddy wire skeleton was…

A psychologist might call it “dissociation.” I don’t feel like myself. I haven’t since Thanksgiving or so. It hasn’t manifested itself in any dramatic way. I feel disconnected from myself and others. I don’t feel like talking. I don’t have the energy to write, or record, or be creative in any way. I don’t want…

I’ve never really felt as though I belong. That’s not entirely true. I didn’t know it at the time, primarily because it’s not the kind of thing I thought about then, but I think I felt like I belonged when I was a kid. I’m talking about everything prior to eleven-years-old. Oak Park, Illinois, was…