So last night we went to see the Monkees at the Greek. And when the show was over we were in Rena’s office listening to Andy Gould, the band’s manager, talk about the show. I asked him whose idea it was to project all the old footage, and after indicating it was his, Andy looked down at the floor and nearly started to cry. He said you have to understand, he grew up in England without indoor plumbing, and now he was managing the Monkees!

Oh, what a long strange trip it’s been.

We heard these records, and we needed to be in this business. And as hard as it is to get into the music business, it’s even tougher to stay in it. That AC/DC song about it being a long way to the top if you wanna rock and roll? Listen to that instead of going to music business college. It’s about perseverance, it’s about starvation, it’s about pursuing a dream when you’re so battered and beaten down that you can barely even see it.

So I’m listening to J.D. at McCabe’s.

No, let me go back a step. I had a reserved seat, but it wasn’t in the primo location, that row was saved for someone who skipped the opening act and didn’t show up until just before the lights went down… And that someone was Tom Hanks, who arrived with his wife Rita Wilson and a couple of friends. There was a hush in the hall. Because you’ve got to understand, Tom Hanks has been in our living room, each and every one of us. He’s not an unknown quantity, he’s the best friend you’ve never met.

And when the show is over, I amble upstairs uptight, I only know J.D. in e-mail, what exactly am I going to say to him, backstage can be the loneliest, most soul-decimating place in the universe.

And I’m hanging back. I’m not gonna interrupt Tom and J.D. But then J.D.’s manager introduces me and J.D. says of course he knows who I am and the three of us are talking about iPads and Kindles and my friend Kate’s bookstore and it’s like a reunion for a high school I didn’t go to and I’m not one of the outsiders, I’m a cool kid.

Not that Tom radiates cool. Or even charisma. Hell, up close and personal J.D. is whimsical, not the protagonist in most of his songs. They’re both positively normal.

And as Tom and I are getting into it J.D.’s a few paces away, calling my name, saying I have to meet someone.

I’m not used to this, I’m inured to being told to leave. I ignore him, not wanting to push my way through the assembled multitude, being aggressive backstage is a no-no.

And J.D. introduces me to Mary Kay Place.

And like the idiot I am, I tell he I loved her on "Mary Hartman". She was Loretta Haggers! And I figure I’ve alienated her, but she’s talking and it dawns upon me, she’s a reader.

You’ve got to understand. My act is done alone, in front of a computer screen. I’m in the eye of the hurricane, I send this stuff out and I’ve got no idea who’s reading it.

And she’s talking like she knows me and I ask her how she knows J.D. and she tells me she’s the godmother to Don Henley’s kid. It was the seventies, everybody knew everybody, it was like an issue of "Rolling Stone" come to life.

But that’s how I knew it, I read about it, I didn’t live it.

But I was living it now.

You have to understand how far it is from there to here. From Connecticut to Santa Monica. From the bar mitzvah dance to McCabe’s.

I remember asking Nancy Moss to dance after being inspired by the first few notes of the Animals song. She turned me down. I was a king at summer camp, but I was a loser back home.

And I kept journeying forward, looking not for where the weather fit my clothes, but where I could speak to people on the same page, who wouldn’t make fun of me. In college I was the weird guy with thousands of records. I moved to L.A. and found a plethora of people just like me.

But with no connected father, with nothing but my wits, I had to climb the ladder. And if you think it goes straight up, you’ve never gone past the first rung.

And I’d like to tell you tonight felt like a victory lap, like I’d arrived, but it felt like nothing so much as home. An abode I’d been searching for forever but had entered only now.

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Sure, J.D. played the hits, but the best part of the show was the stories.

Today’s stars have no personality. And if they do have something to say it’s been filtered to offend no one and further their career.

But J.D.’s the wisecracking dude who looks at life from an angle and is always included because he’s the special sauce who makes it a good time. Not the star, but the voice of reality, the one who speaks the truth.

He’s talking about a light coming on in his Volvo and it’s like you’re driving in the car along with him. And when the payoff is about the tuner for his guitar, you realize this is a raconteur, a smart person with a skewed view of life who is always interesting.

And it was an interesting evening tonight!