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"Words, when spoken out loud for the sake of performance, are music. They have rhythm and pitch and timbre and volume. These are the properties of music and music has the ability to find us and move us and lift us up in ways that literal meaning can't."

-President Josiah Bartlet, from "The West Wing"

This was a favorite tune back in college. Sir Laurence Oliver and Bob Hoskins and the groundbreaking audio production crafting of Paul Hardcastle:

I've been a fan of Bill Frisell since college. He's magical. Over the past week, I've been on a real tear, listening to his entire discography. I now feel compelled to spread the word. Go to GrooveShark and give a real listen to any of his albums. Maybe start with East/West or The Intercontinentals or Unspeakable or The Willies.

Hey, thanks to all the lovely folks who asked what they could do to support Forever Parenting. You are the sweetest friends a guy could hope for.

So, here's some stuff you can do: If you have a blog, put our link in your blogroll. Write a review on your blog (you don't even have to be nice, I'll take any press I can get!) - If you're on The FaceBook, mention us in your feed. Follow us on The Twitter - @4everParenting - and retweet our tweets. Also, go visit the site and comment on the articles/essays. And eat more fiber.

Want to do even more? Find us a sponsor, 'cause maintenance ain't free! :¬o

Thanks for the love! ♥

GNMParents has become Forever Parenting, a streamlined version of the same parenting community blog you've shown your love all these years. I've worked hard to shape Forever Parenting into something worthy of your eyes. The color palette is Leslie's. The database and server management is Kevin's. The writers are still the writers, though there's a few new and a few departed. So, nu, go give it a taste, what could be bad?

*hat-tip to Dave Mark

Brand new Lucinda Williams, for those who need six strings to hold up their broken heart.

Everyone has a few things that drive their passions, external "things" that draws their obsession, their ardor. Maybe you're into sports or music or ballet or knitting or electronics or woodworking or deep-sea diving. These things have a purpose, and that purpose is to heal. To wash away our sins, to medicate our souls, to heal us. To make us whole.

For me, it's cinema. The movies make me whole.

But why? What about the movies makes me feel the way I do?

I am in the middle of my latest rewatching of P. T. Anderson's Punch Drunk Love. It stars Adam Sandler and Emily Watson, who fall in love in front of our eyes. This is both painful and joyous, as they stumble over each other, emotions wreaking havoc. Like any real-life horror, I am torn, wanting to shield my eyes, and yet equally desirous of a wide-angle lens with which to take in every possible view. This film is one of those perfect films in that regard, one of the best awkward romance movies in the history of film.

And as I watch it, as I see Adam Sandler's character in the act of choosing to make a horrible mistake, I yearn to stop the action and run up to him and say, "No, don't, stop, come back!" And yet I can't. I am enfeebled, forced to watch helplessly as he screws up yet again.

He reminds me of me.

I think of my past at times, whether it's convenient or not. And some times I think of choices I've made, choices that were not in my best interest. Bone-headed, dim-bulbed choices. Dreadful choices. And there's that frustration, like popcorn husk in my teeth, as I ache to go back and fix it, to stop myself and make a different choice.

And I know that I can't, which makes it worse.

So what's this healing of which I speak? This is that moment, the moment in the film when we turn a corner and the good thing happens. The moment in the film when we see a glimpse of the great wide awesome, the wonderful world of It's All Working Out For The Best. And for films that carry this message, repeated viewing is so very nurturing, because we know that all the wrong turns and stumbles will bring them to this rapture, where Everything Works Out For The Best.

And as we watch, we identify with the main character, and we have a vicarious few hours, as we become them, and we get the great ending, where we get everything we want, where we win.

For me, the healing is when I realize that I too get everything I want, that in the end, I win. I have a wife that is the one I've been waiting for, the one the guy gets at the end of every truly great romance. And I know that if I'd made different choices, I might have missed out on this. So I know that each of my choices was, in fact, the right one, the perfect one, the choice that led me further on the path towards meeting Mrs. Right.

That's what the film Punch Drunk Love does for me. It gives me that healing satisfaction of having made all the right choices. Even if they didn't seem like terrific choices in the moment, they got me here. And that's a feeling worth having.

This is for Sully, a true mensch.

This goes out to my mother, who tirelessly enables people who are mentally ill, and to Ronald Reagan, who didn't see them as people at all.

Part 1

"San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. And that, I think, was the handle - that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting - on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark - the place where the wave finally broke and rolled back." -Hunter S. Thompson, "Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas: A Savage Journey To The Heart Of The American Dream," 1972

Are you into Philly Soul? The Intruders, in large part, invented the sound.

This album is currently my pick for best of 2010. "Chinatown" is the first track. Give it a chance.