For the last three months there has been a pachyderm in my parlor. It would not be ignored, no matter how much effort I put into it, and when you are faced with something that huge, it's hard to concentrate on anything else. Fortunately, it's tenancy is coming to an end in a couple of days, so I can start to breathe again.

In the interim, consider this some mindful filler. I haven't been holed up in my room for three months, although at times it has felt that way.

• Computer: I have a new toy, the obscenely small yet fully functional Sony Vaio P. It isn't the fastest thing in the world, but it is certainly sweet having a fully-featured laptop small enough to slip in to my purse. Since buying it in January it has rarely left my purse.

• Film: I went to see Coraline, the stop-motion animated film by Henry Selick, director of Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas and James and the Giant Peach, based on the book by Neil Gaiman. It is, in a word, astounding. If at all possible see it in 3D, but if that option isn't available, go see the standard version. While ostensibly a film for children, it is probably more frightening for adults. It is far from a perfect adaptation — I take particular issue with the new ending, which removes one of the strongest features of the book — but the design, acting, and direction are astounding. I loved it.

• Music, Recorded: Amanda Palmer is still rocking my world, and Who Killed Amanda Palmer hasn't left my rotation for several months now, which is something of a record for me. It is a brilliant, eclectic, outspoken, and emotionally-charged album, and one which will easily stand the test of time. Amanda has a unique voice, in the literal, musical sense, and in the metaphoric, artistic sense.

• Music, Live: I've actually seen an uncommon number of live shows (for me, anyway). But the two standouts are the Amanda Palmer/Vermillion Lies show at the Culture Room in Fort Lauderdale, and the two times I've heard local Afro-Cuban Funk Jazz band Palo! Vermillion Lies is a great duo, performing cabaret-style numbers with macabre twists; they utterly charmed the audience from the opening lines of "Grandfather's Eyes." Amanda managed to make her audience feel like they were sitting in her living room just bullshitting and drinking wine while she pounded her piano and brought us from cheers to tears and back again; she also took requests from the audience via Twitter (@amandapalmer). It was a great, great show, and one I was sorry to see end.

• Still in live music, Palo! is a prime example of the power of social media for the arts. I heard about Steve Roitstein and his band through Twitter (@gopalo) and Facebook when some of my friends caught up with him. Steve's a sharp guy, and knows how to use the power of social media for good, not evil. His band can kick out some serious jams, too. (And their lead singer, Leslie Cartaya... so, so good, and so, so hot!) They play in Miami often, so if you love music that makes you want to get up and dance, no matter how white you are, you owe it to yourself to hear Palo!

• Books: I chanced across a marvelous novel about the early days of New Orleans and the birth of jazz called The Sound of Building Coffins, by Louis Maistros. One might call it a work of American magic realism; one might also call it an historical fantasy. What it really is, though, is a brilliant, complex, and poetic novel about one of my favorite cities. It has been called the first book since A Confederacy of Dunces to really capture this unique place, and I have to agree.

• And in the midst of all this I managed to land myself in the hospital for a few days. It would seem that I have kidney stones, although I can't vouch for that, even having seen the CT scans. I mean, they are supposed to be as painful for a man as childbirth is for a woman, but I didn't notice. All my pain felt like appendicitis. Ah well, that's why they are doctors, and I'm just a guy who tells stories.

And that will have to do for now. Stay tuned for the pachyderm's departure, so I can explain a bit more about what's been going on in Hidden City lately.

And so begins my final year under 50.

Your host, at work on his birthday

In many ways yesterday was my first social media birthday. In addition to the e-cards — both sweet and scandalous — my Facebook profile page was filled with well-wishes and digital gifts. Contacts on Twitter and Plurk sent their regards, as well. The ease of communication granted by a handful of keystrokes and the click of a mouse makes it so much simpler to offer greetings to people near or far, and greatly expand the circle of friends who have time to spend with you, even if only virtually.

This is shaping up to be a year in motion for me, with quite a bit of change in my life, leading toward my fiftieth birthday. The two, though, aren't intentionally related; there are no red sports cars or besequined blond nymphettes in my future. Sometimes fate just conspires to bring symbolic gestures to life without our planning them.

But things could be worse. I have a lot of friends, both local and virtual, who will support me along the way. The shifts — although some will clearly be difficult — will lead to an overall positive change. And you know, perhaps it is merely my own vanity, but in looking at yesterday's birthday photo, I think I am remarkably well-preserved for forty-nine. (It's all that regrettable clean living, I assure you. There's no portrait stashed in an attic here. Of course, if there were I would have lost track of it by now.)

Stick around. These should be interesting times.

I am not terribly good at self-promotion. Nonetheless, I wish to point out that two of my pieces, "Directions" and "Climbing to the Moon," have been nominated for South Florida Daily Blog 2008 Post of the Year.

I encourage you to vote for the entry of your choice, of course; there's a lot of fine work on display. However, I do hope you'll give consideration to my two entries. I'm really rather proud of them both.

This is also as good a time as any to thank all of you, my readers, for your support over the years. Writing is a lonely business in the best of times, casting stones into a pond and hoping that the ripples will return; knowing that you keep coming back, and reading, and often enjoying my work makes the effort worthwhile. Thank you.

Should you ever visit Hidden City and find that the most recent post is dated April 25, 2008, do me a kindness and drop me a line to tell me? My web host, for reasons beyond my ken, periodically decides that they are going to replace my index file with an old one. This causes the timewarp that just took place again.

This may be an opportune moment to advise new readers (and to remind the regulars) that I have dreams that are extraordinarily vivid, and often irrationally narrative in nature. Yes, I am aware most people do not dream like this. Yes, it can be interesting, and a topic for lively conversation. No, it is not something I would wish on you. Some mornings I wish my dreams were of the "every woman who's ever turned me on comes over to play naked Twister with me" variety, but no. There ain't no such thing as a free lunch, and my descriptive powers come from the wounds inflicted by these dreams.

With that, some of the visions I set into words are a little disturbing; such is the nature of dream. Just because I dreamed it doesn't make it true, or even how I necessarily feel. It is just that sometimes, when I sleep I travel down roads not taken, or not yet taken.

So after you read Value, please don't call for an intervention, okay?