”The first concert I ever attended was Hall & Oates, at some tented outdoor situation in Connecticut, with my dad. I love StuJay, as he's called by his friends and colleagues, absolutely to death. "You sound just like your dad," he'd always say to me when I was having this meltdown or that, "except I couldn't comprehend or verbalize any of it until I was 30." The depression/anxiety apple did not fall far from the tree, but it was OK, because Dad was an example that I'd survive it. When I was in elementary school, I would ride in the backseat of his white Volvo P1800 (seatbelt-less, dangerous, and totally delicious) next to my little brother Matty, and we'd listen to the Very Best of Daryl Hall & John Oates tape as we flew down the Connecticut highways in the summer. I had lists of crushes in my Ramona Quimby diary, and I would silently assign each track on the tape to a different boy as it played, meditating on the daydreams of one day being liked back, by any of them, by anyone. What I miss most about childhood and subsequently adolescence are the poignant, bursting moments of anticipation of wonderful things to come, even if those wonderful things never happened. I savored the vibrating engine of my longing heart as it fantasized about the future. Little did I know that I'd come undone the older I became, as there is no way real life could meet the soaring expectations of my youth. No matter. I've arrived at adulthood, and I keep arriving, and "Private Eyes" still gives me an extra heartbeat. In fact, whenever I hear a song from that album, "Kiss On My List" or "Say It Isn't So" or "You Make My Dreams," I take it as a wink from the greater intelligence of the universe. I feel lost, but somehow, someone knows I'm on my path.”