55Portland, United States
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My self-summary
l served five years as a writer in New York and ten years as a director in LA before moving to Portland. Looking back, I'm astonished that people were willing to pay me for my “ability to communicate life truths” when I hadn’t actually experienced any.

This isn’t false humility. It was the blind leading the blind or in my case, the naive hiring the technically proficient, yet immature.

Eleven years ago when my wife got pregnant, I decided that even though LA and New York were where the work was, no way in hell was I going to raise a family in either of those places. That’s when we threw a dart at the map and ended up here.

They say moving, having a baby, and being out of work are the three greatest stressors on a marriage. Throw in renovating the fixer-upper house we'd bought, dumping all my savings into a new business venture, and having a second child with special needs and I’m surprised our marriage was able to limp along until 2012.

After the divorce I had a two-and-a-half year relationship. It was a wonderful rebound, but it ran its course and we’ve moved on to being friends. Since it ended I’ve been concentrating on raising my kids, finding a new career path, and putting down roots in my community.

For the first time in my life, I fully embraced being single.

Turns out, I like being single. I’m pretty good at it, too. I’m not going to lie, though. It gets lonely.

Not lonely enough to do anything about it, at least not until recently.

Now that I’ve got my shit more or less together, I’m ready to meet someone. The last someone. The right someone. The person who will hold my hand on my deathbed and laugh her ass off with me while my life slips away.

Someone amazing: Funny. Fit. Thoughtful. Responsible. Creative. Secure. Conscientious. And most important, kind.

Be all that and I’ll be all that back, I promise.
What I’m doing with my life
I started a company that I thought was going to revolutionize an entire industry. It didn't. It flamed out, taking my life's savings with it. So most of my waking hours are spent trying to figure out where to go from here.

And a lot of my sleeping hours are spent awake.

Especially with two kids who are with me almost half the time, one of whom is ASD (which is code for gloriously creative, super funny, and insanely thoughtful -- when he's not being totally oblivious).

Oh, and I come with a dog. Or rather, he comes with me. I got him for my daughter, but when she's not around (and let's be honest, a good portion of the time she is), I'm the one who picks up his poop which means I get to have him along for company whenever I want, which is a lot because he's a funny, friendly, happy goofball.

I've started down a new career path without entirely leaving the old one and that means I'm not exactly free to hang out with you every night and watch old Bing Crosby movies or try to figure out ways to cook squash so that it doesn't taste like, you know, squash.

Not that I don't want to. You seem amazing. But we're going to have to take things pretty slowly for a while, at least until I find my sea legs.

Can you be okay with that, at least for the time being?
I’m really good at
Figuring out how things are going to turn out, but for the completely wrong reasons (this has been insanely valuable when it comes to the stock market and stupidly frustrating when predicting my own future).

Making bizarre connections.

Coming up with theories. (I know, for example, which came first, the chicken or the egg.)

Finding the funny in even the most horrific situation.

Picking myself up and starting over (lots of practice with that one).

Spilling on my new shirt.

Making lists and then losing them.

Writing complaint letters.
The first things people usually notice about me
is my decisiveness. No, wait, it's something else.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
I read mostly non-fiction. Food porn. You know, books about the history of a certain spice or what happens to the proteins in meat at 130 degrees.

I like fiction as well, but I have a pretty high bar for writing and there isn't a lot out there that gets me interested. Lately, it's Michael Chabon for his incredible imagery.

In movies, I go for great writing, too. 'The Princess Bride', 'Diva', 'Shanghai Noon'... lots of comedies. But then there's 'Trois Couleurs' (a masterpiece), 'Slumdog Millionaire', 'Let the Right One In', 'Children of God'... I used to watch a lot of foreign films, but with a ten- and a nine-year-old, the closest I come anymore is 'Ratatouille'.

My musical tastes are bizarre. Most of what I listen to is North African Rai or Eastern European gypsy music or Cuban Son or some other obscure stuff where you have no idea what the lyrics say. (I know, weird. Not about the writing.)

Lately, I've got Pandora tuned to Antonio Carlos Jobim, Balkan Beat Box, and Thievery Corporation. I also like Maná, Led Zeppelin, Chopin, and Pink Martini. Please don't make me listen to Brittney Spears, Cher, Abba, or anything rap or hip hop.

Every once in a while I'll go on a musical quest. For a while, I was trying to find the sound of a smoky Paris nightclub at 2:00 in the morning –– a sultry singer, stand-up bass, drum set, maybe a piano. I stumbled onto Diana Krall, Madeline Peyroux, Melody Gardot, Norah Jones, and Kat Edmonson. (Digression: If you don't absolutely, completely love Kat Edmonson's version of 'Summeritme', we are simply not going to get along. I play it at least once every other day and it never fails to give me goose bumps. Seriously.)

Where was I? Oh yeah. When I got a new car I found myself looking for late-night driving music. So far I've got Massive Attack, Gotan Project, Mercan Dede, Parov Stellar. Got any suggestions?

Food? I love red food. Anything red: Gazpacho, red meat, bouillabaisse, salmon, cherries, red peppers, a nice rioja, nectarines, seared ahi, romesco... Two important qualifications, by the way: 1) Coloring something red doesn't make it taste better. (I'm probably addicted to lycopene and anthocyanins.) 2) This only seems to hold for actual food. Red licorice? Doesn't do it for me.

Yeah, it must be the lycopene and anthocyanins.

And bread. I mean, I really love bread. Those crusty Italian loaves with the chewy, tangy interior.
Six things I could never do without
My kids. (I know, corny but true.)
Bread. Real bread. Crusty, chewy, yummy bread.
Ideas. Not necessarily mine.
The Oxford comma.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
My kids. (I know, corny but true.)
Bread. Real bread. Crusty, chewy, yummy bread.
Ideas. Not necessarily mine.
On a typical Friday night I am
Preparing a spectacular feast for my kids. Sometimes they mow it all down and I feel like the greatest chef in the world. Other times they turn up their noses and say hurtful things like "A little light on the saffron in the bouillabaisse, huh, Daddy?" and "Tarte tatin again? I want a popsicle"

Precocious little critics.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
When I'm stressed, I have these dreams in which something is about to happen, but never does.
You should message me if
you can't stand the suspense.
The two of us