There’s a Sinatra song “In The Wee, Small Hours Of The Morning”, that Barry Levinson used in one of his movies about Baltimore Tin Men.

I wish my insomnia were so rich and romantic that Sinatra tunes were featured in my sleepless episodes, but no, or, at least , not yet.

I am waiting for AMTRAK’s Silver Meteor (#98) to pass through Ashland on the Virtual Railfan You Tube site. While waiting , I’ll fantasize I’m on my way to New York , and The Big Apple will be permanently romantic and not teetering on fiscal disaster. The Astors and The Vanderbilts will perpetually hold control and Fitzgerald’s Great Gatsby will be as real as Grant’s Tomb and Central Park.

The consolation tonight is the richness of cinema. Whether a Flash Gordon serial from the Thirties or a work by a master like Fellini or Spielberg, the movies have been The Great Escapes of modern times.

Monsters like Hitler or Stalin have allowed geniuses like Riefenstahl or Eisenstein to give at least a glimmer of excitement or legitimacy to their machinations .

We can imagine ourselves Someplace Else, out West with Duke Wayne or at Tara with Scarlett O’Hara, or in Never Land with Peter Pan. The movies can do that.

And The Good Guys can win. And Hope can stay on life support a while longer.

A friend and I were talking about Nina Simone. She was a great singer who could bring a person to tears. And nobody knows about her or talks about her any more. Look her up . Listen to her songs. You’ll see what I mean,

A new television series is scheduled for the Fall season

It’s a sitcom about a periodontist who opens his practice on a Greek island.

Giulietta Masina was the wife of Federico Fellini. She was also a brilliant actress in her own right.

Please watch Nights Of Cabiria and you’ll see what I mean.if you’re not convinced, see La Strada.

Never mind virgins on Wedding nights. We can outlaw the designated hitter and restore some purity to our long-suffering Republic.

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I just watched thirty seconds of Albert Finney in a film I cannot keep awake watching. He was absolutely brilliant, no great soliloquies, just an actor becoming the character.

I stay awake. Are the nightmares of my parents hereditary? Dysfunctional alcoholic families. The full horror of combat. The PTSD is absorbed and passed on.

They didn’t even know that they were carriers

There are people who post, decrying their political adversaries as evil, corrupt, lecherous, and predatory.

I have no time to dispute their accusations.

It’s too nice a day.

The hardest things for me to admit were the abusive relationships I was in, most notably my second marriage.

If I think about it , I know I need therapy.

She is now a ghost. Which gives her an immortality, of sorts.

Tonight, however, instead of a twenty , there was $100. And a note

Call me 212-###-%%%%.

What the Hell.

And when he called, the voice answering asked curtly

„Do you want a warm bed and clean sheets?“

„Hot showers? Cold beer?“

„Coffee like you want it in the morning?

Yes. Yes and Yes

„Come to this address______\\___________. Ring the buzzer twice . Show your face in the camera, then your cock. I will buzz you in“

So it began that first day. Jo-Jo would be a live-in bottom to a top with money, lots of it.

And maybe the dirtiest mind this side of Attica.

When he got to the penthouse, the door opened and a voice without a speaker asked,

„Why are your clothes still on? The elevator is the place to get naked.“

„Remember that if you ever leave and come back.“

„Put your clothes in that sack in the chair“

„Bend over , spread your ass cheeks, let me see that butthole again. Jo-Jo, intrigued by the prospect of sex , without the hustle, complied.

„Get down like a doggy, then wriggle your ass, for a trick that wants your hole and you.

All of sudden, this felt like an easier way to eat, sleep, you know, get by in life.

Head down, ass up on the floor of the entry foyer, he felt hands spread his ass cheeks. And a shot of something squirted up his hole. Then a finger, then two worked their way in probing, flexing , teasing, until that fat dick plunged inside, rocking in and out , until he felt the cum squirt out and the cock leave. His own cock, hard and throbbing, yearned for release.

„Get on your back and pump that meat. Let’s see you shoot that load“

Jo-Jo obeyed and he felt the cum surge, landing all the way to his tits.

„Keep your eyes closed.“and a towel dropped on his cum- spattered torso.