It's eleven days into the New Year and boy what a joyous ride so far.

The first few days of 2008 was spent in Los Angeles where I ate the most amazing food, dined, wined and danced with some of those most interesting, creative, intelligent friends a brother could ever have in this world [and I am truly grateful and charmed]. It's a rare thing in this world, to walk into a room, to walk into a room after spending years dodging the disdain of Midwestern morals and to see arms stretch open wide, smiles curve on lips and told instantly you're missed. It's a rare thing when you know you have people who love, adore and support you and you, undyingly, feel the same for them.

My first few days in 2008 was spent like that and I'm, again, grateful and charmed and inspired.

Upon my return to NYC, I quickly hit the pavement to picket with my fellow WGA Strikers, rehearsed and had a reading of a play that needs a complete revamping, and discovered a new foodie in midtown. Hell's Kitchen. The grilled salmon, pumpkin bread pudding and glass of Rioja had me and my dinner-mate, Judy Tate, licking lips and calling for our mothers. I also spent a good portion of my birthday with my long-time good friend Rashaad Ernesto Green --aspiring filmmaker and artist extraordinaire. I met Rashaad when he was a fresh-faced senior at Dartmouth and now he's a bearded brother on his way to becoming a movie-making genius.

But one joy I must reveal is this: last night on the A-Train I was sitting down with Rashaad, having an impassioned conversation about the sometimes-juvenile and cut-throat climate of the TV and Film industry and then, out of nowhere, this somewhat older black man, scruffy face, possibly drunk or insane, gets up from his seat, walks mid-way toward me and says, Hey, You! [he was talking to me]. I looked up and he says, Yeh, You. And I notice he was giving me the middle finger. Of course I was surprised. I had NO idea who the man was or WHY he had singled out me to inflict his insanity. He then sat back down and kept repeating, You got a big mouth. Faggot. You got a big mouth.

And of course, the train got quiet and of course everyone was looking at me. I was a bit nervous and certainly embarrassed. Why me? But even more importantly, does this dude have a knife or a gun?

So you want to know about the joy in all of this. Well, a year ago I would have told him to shut up. I would have engaged in some dialogue and questioned his cruelty or asked why is that some black men have issue with other black men sitting on a subway and having an articulate conversation that doesn't involve "bitches, niggas, etc".

I certainly felt attacked. That my corduroy jacket, my hipster shoes, my command of both language and content somehow unnerved this insane man and that it was very important to him to show me how much he abhorred someone like me. That everyone should know that an older, albeit insane, black man can walk up to a younger, articulate, non-traditionally dressed black man and offer the middle finger with the kind of conviction that burned the Witches of Salem.

Wow. How unfortunate. But I kept quiet and avoided any possible "real" danger and I'm proud and joyous for my growth.

What a beginning to a New Year.

Until next time,

Keith