Post number forty-five, Katy.

As one story begins, another ends.

A week after the birth of little Spencer, the LonelyOp's tribe lost a beloved member.

Katy, my aunt, died this morning after a long fight with Lou Gehrig's Disease (ALS).

She had a razor sharp wit and a keen sense of humor, and she rarely held her tongue.

She was a creative soul, with the most beautiful printed handwriting I've ever seen.

She struggled mightily with insecurity and self-loathing.

We shared a love for words and word games.

Ah, the Scrabble fights we got into.

I'll miss her.

I'm glad she isn't suffering any longer.

Post number forty-four, Spencer

A new member of the LonelyOp’s extended family was born last Monday. Welcome to the world, Spencer Phillip. Congratulations, Lydia and Mike.

I visited them at the hospital on Tuesday. As I held my new little friend, I felt the amazing peaceful feeling that only comes from the combination of sight, smell, and love that is watching a baby sleep.

He slept soundly as I held him, his little eyes moving behind closed lids, his mouth contorting, his face testing the expressions that he’ll use for the rest of his life. What was he dreaming about? Would this be the best dream he ever had, unpolluted by expectations and preconceptions? Or will his dreams get better as he is he exposed to the amazing potential that awaits him in the world?

His little cherubic face was a blank slate. I will never forget what he looked and felt like when he was one day old. When we first met. There he was, peaceful and content, an empty page on which a story of unlimited potential that I can’t wait to read will be written. It is a little embarrassing to think that I will always remember this day, because he almost certainly won’t. The day after it all began. Day one of a few hundred thousand.

Maybe I’ll remind him about it some day, when I’ve become a sentimental old man.

Welcome to the world, Spencer.

Fasten your seatbelt. It’s a fast ride, but a hell of a lot of fun.

Post number forty-three, Testify.

Back from Austin, I was happy to sleep in my own bed. Unfortunately, things were not quite back to normal, as I found myself testifying for two days in a work-related arbitration.

The details would give sweet sleep to the most steadfast insomniac. Suffice it to say I spent two days in downtown Los Angeles, carefully listening to and answering questions about things for which I am uniquely qualified.

The notable thing about the experience was getting to know the three lawyers and their paralegal that represented the side for which I was testifying. They are a little intense, almost obsessively work long hours, and swear like sailors. In short, they were my kind of people.

As we chatted at breaks and lunch about everything from college football to the meaning of life to best place in Los Angeles to get loaded, I realized that these people were almost too much like my friends and I. Here they were, talking the same language, interested in the same things, frequenting some of the same places, and I don’t know them. I don’t know them, but I recognize them as me.

I thought I was unique, that my friends and I are unlike any other group of young people in Hollywood. We are smarter, more well-balanced, better looking and obviously funnier than anyone, with our own completely unique world view. After last week, I realize this isn’t true.

Could it be that this soulless city is full of little pockets of passionate people in all walks of life, joking, talking, and searching for the same answers?

Post number forty-two, deep in the heart of Texas.

I recently spent four days in Austin. I was sick while I was there, so I didn’t give the city the chance it probably deserves. From my feverish perspective, it was all about the dirty smelling, disgusting tasting tap water and the out of hand bacchanal that is 6th Street after 11PM.

Someone pointed out that Austin is the most liberal place in Texas, the shining beacon of common sense in an otherwise gun- and Bush-obsessed state.

Yikes.