So, here we are. The end of 2008. What a fantastic, awful, exciting, terrifying year it was. If you only lost half your net worth, you're doing pretty well. On the bright side, in a month we will have a new cast of characters in Washington. Not a moment too soon.

Sorry about missing the last two weeks. It's because... oh, hell. It's gonna happen. You understand.

Monday night's episode was 311, "The Eclipse, part 2," wherein Sylar and HRG beat each other senseless. The scene culminates in a nasty collision of box cutter and jugular -- which, as any parent can tell you, is just not safe. This is the scene I wrote about several weeks (months?) ago in which Zach Quinto and I engage in fisticuffs for eight hours. Having not seen the episode yet, I don't know how long the sequence lasts, but I can tell you that however long it is, lots of it remains on the cutting room floor. (This expression, like so many others, is a charming anachronism. Heroes isn't assembled on film. Although shot on 35 millimeter film, it is edited digitally.)

I've got a cold. Thanks, Hayden. I worked with her all last week and she was sneezing all over the place. I have a sneaking suspicion, however, that the virus was transferred by way of burrito. She manhandled the darn thing before giving it to me. That was Monday, before I realized that she was polluted. Moments later, the sniffling and sneezing began. I've never seen a human being blow her nose so many times in one week. Let's hope I don't break her record.

So, I'm home today. Tomorrow we start episode 17. It's a huge one for me, along the lines of "Company Man," which was also episode 17, or "Cautionary Tales." This episode is entitled "Cold Wars." All three are two word titles beginning with C's. Coincidence? Yeah, probably.

Sorry for missing last week. There will be times that I just can't get around to writing the blog. I hope y'all understand. Here then is a partial list of excuses:

On top of work, there's my movie. We're in the midst of putting all the financing in place, an exercise that seemingly has no end and always needs attention. Then there's the construction. The entire front of our house is torn up. Also, my daughter has either soccer or a basketball game, it seems, every day of the week. To miss a game is a capital offense, punishable by death. Not that I would want to miss one. She's the leading scorer on her soccer team. They're in second place out of 22 teams, so it's a fun ride this season. Friday night, I worked until 5 am, got to sleep around 6, then got up at 8 so I wouldn't miss her game at 9. I know what you're thinking: Nobel Prize for parenting. That's certainly what I was thinking at 8 am. My daughter was somewhat less impressed.

Sylar and Bennet, Live in Griffith Park

"I'm sitting in a railway station, got a ticket for my destination..."

Zach and I warble, approximating harmony if never fully achieving it.

We're driving around a suburban street (there's no other kind) in Santa Clarita. More accurately, we're being towed in a "Company" car. We don't actually do any of the driving ourselves, we fake it. Acting, I believe it's called. Sylar and Bennet are on a mission to find Steven Canfield, who has the ability to create black holes -- not of the Landlady variety, of the astrophysical variety. Vortexes.

While the cameras role, we drip contempt for each other. When the cameras stop, and we are towed back to our starting place to repeat the scene using a different lens or a wider angle, or because Zach messed up; we bust out our Simon and Garfunkel repertoire, rusty and limited though it is. I feel sorry for our director, Anthony Hemingway (great name, great guy, great director) who has his headphones on and is subjected to harmonies that are remarkably Gregorian.

I am not in episode 304, unless they've pulled a scene from episode 305. All I can remember from 304 is future Sylar (Gabriel Gray) has a son named Noah and is living in the Bennet house in Costa Verde. WTF? Of course, this is only a possible future, as are all futures on our show.

So, in this volume I'm not talking about Heroes. I'm winging it. I thought maybe I'd talk about some of my other magnificent projects, the ones that from time to time make their way onto youtube. I like to think of them as a collection of my lamest hits.

Housekeeping: Yes, I did spell Cris Rose's name wrong last week, and yes, I do appreciate the irony of having corrected her on the pronunciation of Milo's last name on the Today show, only to turn around and spell her name wrong.

My bad. You're good. This is why I am writing a blog for TWoP. Because you guys are bright and on it. Cris loves you for it and may never let me live it down. Thanks a lot.

Episode 3. Sylar and HRG are partners. For now.

I love working with Zach. He's a fantastic actor. Facile, quick, strong technique. He knows his way around a scene right away. Television does not provide the luxury of time, either to rehearse or to yack for hours about "your motivation." It's always a death race to make the day, especially on Heroes, which is so technically complicated. Zach has a take on a scene right away and his instincts are usually great. Except for those times he has tried to keep me off camera or take my lines. You gotta watch him on that.

"Are you having trouble? Do you need cue cards?"

I look down at a 120-degree angle to see Hayden's shining face and innocent, disingenuous smile. I glare at her with all the venom I can muster.

"I'm just saying," she continues sweetly, "that if you're struggling to remember your lines, I'm sure props could provide you with cue cards."

As she walks away giggling, I wonder if the .45 in my holster is loaded.

I was struggling with my lines. I hadn't worked on HEROES in months and I was surprisingly nervous. It was episode 2 but I had no lines in episode 1 and now, because of the time away, I was a bit jittery.

It's late April. I'm in a van coming down from a glacial lake 70 miles east of Vancouver in British Columbia. I've just finished shooting a movie for the Sci-Fi channel entitled "Pole Reversal." It's only been a three week shoot but it seems longer, being away from home and having to work in rain and cold for the first time since, well, since the last time I worked in Vancouver. I grew up between Philadelphia and New York, but after years in California, I have become a Weather Weenie.

The rain is beating down on the windshield and though it's only 6:30 PM it has already been dark for hours. I call my wife and crow into the phone that I'm done, I'm coming home, and I can't wait to take it easy for several days.

"The first Heroes script has arrived," she tells me.