Since Roger Ebert's return to writing after the 2006 thyroid surgery that left him without part of his jawbone, he's been a notably more adventurous scribe, unafraid to toss off deadpan satire, rice cooker meditations, and a good Ben Lyons slam now and then. Now, though, after a thoughtful essay on the internal, decay-obsessed Synecdoche, New York, Ebert has been moved to write one of his most personal stories yet: a digressive, Charlie Kaufman-esque meditation on life, death, and his new, Phantom-like face.

I keep forgetting about the Phantom of the Opera. Yes, what is it like to resemble him, since I am what is now described as having Facial Differences? To begin with, I must make this clear: Many people have problems much worse than mine, and at a much younger age, and sometimes joined with other disabilities. I may seem tragic to you, but I seem fortunate to myself. Don't lose any sleep over me. I am so much a movie lover that I can imagine a certain (very small) pleasure in looking like the Phantom. It is better than looking like the Elephant Man. I would describe my condition as falling about 17% of the way along a graph line between the handsome devil I was at the ripe tender age of 27, and the thing that jumps out of that guy's intestines in "Alien." So to return to my opening question, what does it feel like to resemble The Phantom of the Opera? Not like much of anything. I rather avoid mirrors. I do not dwell on my appearance. I have bigger fish to fry. Nor do I mope about fearing that my cancer might return. If it does, it does, and that's what she wrote. At Pritikin they have a truism: "If you don't die of anything else, sooner or later you will die of cancer." We all nod thoughtfully.

The rest of the piece is filled with warm anecdotes about his "fat one" appearance vis-a-vis Gene Siskel, wherein Ebert reminisces about a life enhanced by their playful, back-and-forth banter. We certainly don't wish harm on Ebert usurper Ben Lyons, but we can only imagine the comparable essay he'd write someday; instead of recalling a complicated, full life marked of ups, downs, and wonderful movies, would it be utterly populated with starfucky photos of him with Jessica Alba or Heidi from The Hills?