Think of every one-of-kind place in the world you've ever wanted to visit. Why do you want to go there? What makes it so different, so solitary? It's funny, but I started to type the word "rare" then "uncommon," however realizing using either would be an incorrect use of language within context. Those words imply that there is a level of equality elsewhere, but what if that's not true? Sometimes I feel redundant, always talking about how utterly incredible the above is, but then again, I do that with everything and everyone I find astounding and inspiring. If it/he/she is that amazingly incredible, it/he/she deserves to be spoken of admirably and frequently. Very frequently. I can't say it's happened often, no more than seven times in my life thus far, so I won't apologize, but if you don't want to read about the Garden anymore, it'd be best to find alternative material. I'll be very sad to see you go, but I'll understand.

In being absolutely honest, it's one of the very few things that has left me speechless on a repeat basis. When we came down off the roof, Tim just looked at me and said, "You know how I knew you were excited? You were emotionless." Which means two things... 1) That he understood something that many people do not, in that a lack of projecting socially recognized emotion often indicates the greatest expression of feeling and 2) that he had been paying attention since the day I met him. It's like when you try to hand-write your thoughts, or even type them, sometimes even speak them... the result that is displayed is only a part of the calamity that has taken residence in your head.

My point? The widest smile and the brightest eyes wouldn't have been an adequate translation of what was in my brain.

As a rule of thumb, if I'm still able to form sentences and carry on a dialogue, well, it's not always exactly what I was hoping to find. It puts life at a different standard and is a wretchedly terrible, yet splendidly terrific personality trait - a flaw and an attribute all rolled into one. Fantastic because I look for it in everyone and everything and awful, of course, because I look for it in everyone and everything. I can count on one hand the amount of times I've met my own standard - two fingers and a half... maybe. Call me difficult, call me impossible, but while I try to meet my own expectations, I have what I might call a "good time" doing it.

Creating reality one hour at a time.

Photo: Roof of Madison Square Garden on Thanksgiving around 7 p.m., 8th Ave. to the left, 33rd St. (almost) dead on.