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As some of you know, I build experiences across unused, Class A commercial spaces for one of my clients. My job is to essentially engage, strengthen and connect disparate communities in any given building. One of the ways we recently achieved this for a particular building in Midtown was by inviting all tenants who had side passions as creators, makers, and artists to exhibit their work in our common space. So an HR manager at a hedge fund brought in her homemade greeting cards, an executive assistant at a law firm brought in his 3D paintings, a front desk associate at a beverage distributor brought in her photographs, and so on. Once we collected and proudly displayed all their work on the walls of our common space, we threw everyone a big Art Party. They could invite their colleagues, friends and family to attend in celebration and hopefully sell some of that side hustle work too. I was particularly struck by a series of prints that appeared to be images of microscopic specimens, so I tracked down the artist. She was unbelievably sweet. I asked her about her work. It turns out they were prints of various recyclable objects found around her desk. I asked her if she had ever shown her art before. She laughed. These prints had been accumulating under her bed, collecting dust for thirty years. No one had ever seen them before. In fact, she had hundreds and hundreds more where these came from. So I told her I wanted to buy a piece. Her mouth dropped and stayed open. I changed my mind. I told her I wanted to buy three pieces. She fell to the floor and sobbed. What seemed like a small gesture on my part felt like a tidal wave to her. Later that day, she submitted a few of her pieces online to a contest. And this weekend, her work will be shown publicly for the first time in her life at an art show in Red Hook. I share this story as a reminder, friends. I say that both literally and figuratively. Show your colors to the world. Enjoy your process. Share your work. Share your passions. Share your story. Montana will continue to play the festival circuit in the new year, and be available to watch online late Spring On a personal note, this year included a number of new travels, from Tulum, Mexico to the Cotswolds of England to Calivigny Island off the coast of Grenada. I never share my craziest stories publicly, but this article gave me some major TBT last week, and I think, I hope, the lesson is worth sharing. A role that, for the time being, would two months later become obsolete. But just imagine for a moment my wide eyes and slacked jaw when they told me that the in-house stylist was going to redo my entire wardrobe! This one was certainly one of the most fascinating. But through this experience and a confluence of other well-timed events, it was the first time in my life, at age 32, when I realized I was worth something. Over the course of this wild year, I recognized something so essential: I was a human that was worthy of respect and worthy of love, just like everybody else. Perhaps I always knew that on my skin. But now I knew it deep in my bones. I guess it took me a decade or so to finally listen. Maybe it was the years of working some of the most degrading gigs I could find to barely make ends meet. Maybe it all goes back to my at times fanciful, at times miserable childhood. Maybe it was all the other external factors I could name that would ultimately take the responsibility off of looking after myself. Not love. You might as well try to feel good. You might as well try to do good. You might as well believe that humanity as a whole has the capacity for good. But I can choose only how I aim to live. And for me, I think this is a directive worth aiming for. Social media has become a scientifically proven dust bowl of psychosis, misinformation, and ultra targeted marketing. Yes, YOU. I am proud of the jobs and the babies, yes. I am also proud of you on just a regular Monday like today. I am proud of you for taking the time to apply to all those jobs. I am proud of you for soldiering on after heartbreak. I am proud of you for busting through barriers on a regular basis. I am proud of you for waking up every morning and charging ahead when the world wants to eat you alive. With a top notch cast and crew, we completed the film this month. Additionally, we partnered up with The American Foundation For Suicide Prevention to use the film as a catalyst for dialogue, support, and education around mental health and suicide prevention. We are currently submitting the film to festivals around the world. I look forward to returning in ! For more on the gala, visit HERE. In , I helped launch the national tech education non-profit All Star Code. All Star Code creates economic opportunity by developing a new generation of black and Latino entrepreneurs who have the tools they need to succeed in technology. While we have chosen to continue developing the series in a more traditional format, exploring the interactive and VR landscape was a thrill, and Boat Ashore Productions continues to develop and produce various interactive, immersive, and experiential content. From driving up the Dalmatian Coast of Croatia and jumping off waterfalls in Bosnia and Herzegovina to dancing the night away in the catacombs of a 12th Century abbey outside Paris, certainly had some of my favorite adventures yet. Stay tuned here, at TheAdventureAddict. Social engagement and activism have always played an essential role in both my professional and personal work. Going into the new year, may we all continue to march on, lifting up the voices of the few, the minority, the quiet, the oppressed, and the disenfranchised. I was out at a bar last night for a birthday party. I was talking to friends about Charlottesville. I then struck up a conversation with a stranger — a finance bro. But I said it, and now I bet you can visualize him better. I never post news links and rarely write political posts. People who know me know this is not for lack of political or social engagement in the slightest. I simply prefer to focus my time on taking action offline, every day, with intention, engaging with people face to face. But this conversation followed last night, which I quickly wrote down after it ended because it scared me so much. Let me tell you something — most people are scum. These men and women were marching with swastikas yesterday. These are the people who make death threats to synagogues and raid Jewish cemeteries. These are the people killing our black brothers and sisters in the streets. See, I told you! Volunteer, donate, call, e-mail, tweet at your representatives, raise your voice, engage, dialogue, march, protest…. Protests have never accomplished a damn thing. Like I told you, most people are scum. But some are. Some are willing to just standby and watch the world burn. The amount of pain and wrongs done in the world every day is immeasurable and overwhelming. And yes, people have no legal or even human obligation to look after or take care of their fellow human beings. But that is not who I choose to be. I choose to be someone who strives every day to do what they can to learn, listen, and make a positive impact. We have to take care of ourselves and our well-being first. Listen to them. Challenge them. Engage them. But try. You have to try. Our democracy, our world, our future is at stake. She was the first artist I knew. She was a painter. She made her living oil painting over the portraits my grandfather, a photographer, took in his Brooklyn studio. Their business was called Vega Photography. She was the first chef I knew. When I was a child, her visits were hotly anticipated. She arrived bearing the gooiest and most delectable rocky road fudge you could ever imagine. Human imagination could never grasp such godly, culinary ecstasy. The fact that she made rocky road seems apropos. She always found sweetness in and around hardships. She played basketball in high school. She began dating Robert, my grandfather-to-be, when she was 18 years old. He was a photographer in the Army. They met at a dance. He drove her home. When he leaned in to kiss her, she slapped him. Robert was to be sent overseas, except a funny thing happened on the way to war. As soon as I get back from the war. The doctor subsequently diagnosed Robert with flat feet. Accurately, I might add. Robert was never sent overseas. The doctor ensured that Robert could stay with Janet, which he did, marry her, which he did, and raise a family with her, which he did. Janet married Robert at age 20, and had my father, Lee, at age Four years later, she had my uncle, Cliff. The floor tiles Harry laid down a century ago remain. I often wonder if he imagined his great-grandson would one day stand on those very tiles. Harry spoke Polish, German, English, and Yiddish. The usage of Yiddish would decrease with each passing generation, though my parents never failed to tuck me in without a Schluff Gezunt. Janet was a Modern-Orthodox Jew. She kept a Kosher kitchen. As a kid, I could never comprehend why she had so many plates. I took pieces of paper off the walls with handwritten quotes, as well as hundreds of paper scraps that I later spent a year piecing together, forming both a 19 th century Dutch shipping calendar, which I kept for myself, and an early 20 th century map of Brooklyn, which I had framed and gave to my father on his 70 th birthday. Annette passed away and the house was demolished shortly after my visit. I was a perpetual disappointment to her strictly because my own red hair became increasingly brown with every passing year. It makes you special. Let your red come out to play. She never called me Michael. But I always liked the fact that she claimed some kind of ownership over me. I was in good hands. Robert died shortly before my Bar Mitzvah. Unable to find a conservative temple in her area, Janet founded one herself. This is where she met her second husband, Harry Wolovitz. They were together for 5 years before he passed. In , due to declining health, Janet moved to California to be closer to my Dad. She lived in an assisted living home called Alma Via, a few doors down from the grandfathers of my friends Marissa and Jena. In her final days, she had dementia, one leg, and a tumor on her face. But she never complained. She continued to laugh. I loved her laugh. Her eyes would squint and her voice would crack and it was the cutest darn thing you ever did see. In the afternoons at Alma Via, Janet would park her wheel chair in the common area. Clusters of people in wheelchairs would surround her. Sometimes it would take a few minutes, but it was always worth it. She would discover me, then stare at me blankly for a few moments. Then a smile would slowly creep across her face. Her eyes would twinkle. The last time I saw her, we stared at each other for what felt like 50 years. Eventually I approached her. I am thankful for the opportunity to know so many incredible people and places around the globe. Let us all continue to combat insularity and hate and strive for a kinder, more generous, and more inclusive world. Wishing excitement and prosperity, love and connection, strong hearts and open minds to all my fellow adventure addicts out there. I moved to W. Apt 2E. You know, the thing he nurtured that eventually ate him whole. I was a year-old film actor in LA, masquerading as an assistant in the studio system, and I wanted to be a theatre director in New York. It was to be the smartest financial decision of my life. I found this one month sublet at W. One room had a young girl from Texas. One room was acting as a storage closet for a rich girl who lived elsewhere with her boyfriend. And the third room was an office turned bedroom with a futon on the floor. A month later, I booked a job on my first Broadway show. Where were my years of living pay check to pay check and feeling terrified I might end up sleeping on the streets? Oh that was to follow my Broadway debut? Got it. I was officially a lease holder on West 84th Street. My birth year. It is possible to find so much meaning, and yet look at an 84 sideways and you just might see a guy sticking his tongue out at you. Do not look for meaning! In I became a New Yorker. I hustled and I hustled and I hustled. I took every job under the Sun. I did in fact live paycheck to paycheck for 6 years. I poured every dime into my work. I went broke twice. The ATM actually said negative. But it never made sense to leave. There are fewer apartment buildings on W. My living room looked out on to a private garden and the bright blue sky. The rent stayed down. And the neighborhood went up, up, up. Old Jews made way for New Strollers. The Columbia kids moved down. Good Enough to Eat moved to Columbus. Things changed after my bike accident three and a half years ago. I started writing more. I became more entrepreneurial. I created my own projects. And I started to make a living. I became a working, thriving artist. It was all I ever wanted to be. I also started spending about a third of the year in California. Subletting out that office-turned-bedroom was the only way I could make it work. In that time, it has been home to a lot of other people as well. A LOT. I could tag half of my Facebook friends right now. Roommates and sublettors. In Betweeners and assorted vagabonds. People I met on Craigslist became roommates became lifelong friends. Thankfully, there was only one true crazy — the very first new roommate. I stand now in this empty space staring at dead walls. Oh will I remember my roof. Roommates and friends. Deaf and nearly blind Miss Faagata across the hall. Sweet Miss Zingone on the 5th Floor. She must be 90 years old now. I always felt so bad living on the first floor while she slowly climbed five stories to the top. Sweet, funny Vivian. I will be the keeper of this block. I will be its historian. I walked this street a million times. I took notes. I told its stories. Now new people will come. My time here had its fair share of problems. But for nearly a decade, this place was full of dreams. For nearly a decade, this place was full of love. For nearly a decade, this place was my home. November 8th, Kinda like Mister President into Madam President. So Bible Belters, it was written all along! She was having a rough morning, th ough she wore her brave face well. I asked her if I could give her a hug, which she accepted. She held tight. Your vote counts. Obvi, Leticia. I read Susan B. Know and trust how many millions of people stand behind you. Who stand with you. Who will fight for you. I remember watching him, in his yarmulke, with his arms around his new son-in-law, proud, respectful, curious, chanting with the rabbis for hours into the night. It has simultaneously disgusted and infuriated me, while giving me the single shred of hope I cling to about him. I tried to sing. I tried to pray. I tried to summon the strength of my ancestors, today, of all days, on the anniversary of Kristallnacht. My faith lies in all of you — my friends, my allies, my communities. I vow to work every day moving forward to ensure a more vibrant, inclusive, open-hearted America. Join me. Let us mourn. Then let us get back to work. This is the beginning of something new and solemn and so important. You must be part of what comes next. If you find yourself in Ireland soon, Kinsale is definitely worth a visit. Of the many towns I love in Guatemala, from Tikal to Atitlan, Antigua always stands out as a special place. This photo was taken just outside Antigua at the peak of Mt. Pacaya, an active volcano. Want a one of a kind experience? Hike up some molten rock to the clouds, and watch the lava flow in crevices just a couple feet below you. He attended art school in Vienna at the turn of the 20th century. So I knew, at the very least, that Austria would be on the itinerary. And I encourage you to do the same. Then take in a performance of classical chamber music inside the Marble Hall. It was the most beautiful music I had ever heard. Cue those tears. A small story of joy at the end of a dark week in our country. This world could afford a little more of your light. Share this: Twitter Facebook Email Pinterest. Like Loading I am most proud of the fact that we employed a record 75 different people on various film and event projects, and are on track to continue growing in with new experiences and TV projects in development. I am proud of your optimism. I am proud of your kindness. I am proud of your resilience. If you ever need a reminder, let me know. You have to remind yourself every day. And now for something completely different. You wanna fuck with black people and Jewish people? Good luck with that. The greater terror, to me, is the complacency and apathy of every day Americans. Never catch it on a screen somewhere? Talk to friends about it? Why not? Do tell me. Tell me more. Most people are scum! What about empathy? What kind of work do you do? Investment banking. Do you enjoy your work? I hate it, honestly. What would you rather be doing? Janet was born in Harlem. Her birthday was my half birthday. My half birthday was her birthday. Shortly thereafter, they started dating. Shortly thereafter, Pearl Harbor was hit. As for the ship Robert was meant to deploy on? It was torpedoed in the South Pacific and sank. Then she tapped her heart and smiled. Schluff Gezunt, Red. To the past and future ghosts of W. That room was to be mine. I packed my bags. I had one month to see if New York was for me. Jonathan e-mailed me. He decided to stay in Cambodia. Full time. The futon was mine if I wanted it. The lease was mine if I wanted it as well. So I took over the lease and I found a steady gig as a middle school tutor. I guess I was staying in New York after all. Sunday In The Park opened. And the recession hit. November 9th, I think I originally fell in love with Kinsale because it reminded me so much of Sausalito in my hometown of Marin County, California. Which looks far more like a bay than a river. The locals are warm and quick to tell excellent stories. And a stroll along the grassy knolls often leads you to what look like abandoned castles. Ticead amhain go dti an Kinsale, le do thoil! About a decade ago, I stumbled upon Cortona, a small town perched on a mountaintop in the province of Arrezo in Tuscany, Italy. Traveling from Florence to Rome, I hopped off the train for an afternoon of exploration. Cortona was everything I wanted in a small Italian town — familial and romantic, featuring cobblestones and architecture rich with history, and a sunset view of Tuscany that would bring me to tears. I always encourage people to hop off trains while in unknown territories. If you have a spare day, I also a recommend a day trip to Mondsee, a lake town 27 kilometers outside the city. Subscribe Subscribed. Sign me up. Already have a WordPress. Log in now. Loading Comments Email Required Name Required Website.

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