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I love to think and obsess about ideas and I'm not afraid to tell you about them.
You know that scene in “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” where he’s been filibustering for hours and he pretty much passes out in the middle of the most epic monologue? Well it’s 5am, and this "About Me" page is version 4-3b. I'll probably pass out on the keyboard. Pretty much a perfectly Capraesque moment, wouldn’t you agree? As I write this I can almost hear Capra sitting in my kitchen, directing me while eating a sandwich. Meatball of course. And now it's dripping sauce on my polished concrete floors. He’s telling me to push through, it will be perfect, just one more take. He puts down the sandwich and walks over. He stares at my screen. I hate it when he does that. He says to me, "Wouldn't this be better in black and white?" I give him the side eye. He tells me, “If you want to send a message, try Western Union.” I tell him to get a napkin.