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Jesus, where to begin? I was going through my photos from the year, the scrap-booky ones that fell short of a "collection". Just in that there was so much. In thinking about it last night, it was all sort of overwhelming. Some of this year has been So Big that I've honestly been trying to Write It Down, like in a real manner. So I'll try to make my usual mish of this as best I can. Ready? Here we go.
Favorite thing I got all year? I think it'd have to be my Beck Family Cookbook. I officially made Son #3 with the Beck's, and heck, that's probably better than No. 1 son with my family. When I grow up, I wanna be like them, so I was really happy to have that honor bestowed upon me. Close second would be my J. Lawless belt w/attendant belt buckle. It wins hands-down for functionality, certainly, given that I'm no longer quite size 38 and sure as hell don't fit in the size 40s no more. Plus it has a certain superhero feel about it which is kinda fun. I can't even begin to think what would have been my best trip. Certainly in terms of Most Epic, it would have been my trip out to the Pacific Northwest with my friends Chris and Andrew. Andrew got brutally fired by our mutually former employer, leaving him homeless and with a RV that he'd intended to use to take all his belongings to Houston. Seeing as how none of us had any personal love for The Electricity Capitol of The Free World, we headed instead up and down the Pacific Northwest in a 30' RV, trying our best to live out every road fantasy any of us had ever had. Hunter Thompson, Easy Rider, Smokey and the Bandit, On The Road, every goddamned time we'd heard "King of The Road" -- all that went into the mix. All things considered, we did pretty well on all counts. Probably next would be the trip down to Whitney in terms of just personal accomplishment. Last year I'd attempted the trip but hadn't quite pulled it off, punking out at Trail Crest. This time, with the help of my then-soon-to-be-girlfriend Hilary, I dragged my dead ass all the way to the top of that motherfucker. Fourteen thousand, nine hundred and fourty-nine feet. Hit the trail about 5am and didn't get off until nearly 8pm. Past Trail Crest its all just pain and nausea for about three pleasant hours as your mind slowly decays from lacks of oxygen. Its kind of hard to slog through that, knowing that every step is just going to make it one step worse and an extra step you'll have to go through on the way back. Made it I did and it was one of those borderline Life Changing Moments. I had to reach deep into myself to just not give up, to lie down and let the mountain gods reclaim me. Back down in one piece and a bit more stripped down than I left. On the way back we hit the Manaznar Relocation Facility outside Independence, CA. That's where the city of Los Angeles built a prison camp for its Japanese residents during WWII. The size and scope of the place are depressing, even with all the buildings long since carted off. The only evidence are a few barely surviving trees, some old water pipes that are very slowly aging, and large piles of nails from when the buildings were broken down and a old, disturbingly barren cemetary. I can't say that I've ever been to a much more forboding place, unless it was the ghosttown of Bodie. They're going to rebuild some of the buildings as part of an interpretive history movement, but if you have a chance to hit it before they do, I strongly suggest it. It certainly changed my perspective on a lot of things and I suppose that's been as much a running theme of this year as anything else. Lemme see, what else did I do? I ran out to Whistler with The Consultancy for its big spring congregation. For what a travelling fool I am and what a skiier I am, the fact that I've never skiied outside of California is something of a abberrancy. Hilary and I (even back then, eh--heck, she's been kicking around for years) cruised Blackcomb on the one day we had to do it in. We all went up mid-mountain and did all these kinda kooky "teambuilding" things which was pretty much just screwin' around on the mountain and was fun, but I stood there looking at the mountains all around me and kicking myself for not being on them right then and there. I kept thinking "goddamn, all my friends are in Tahoe right now drunk off their ass and/or skiing, and I'm standing on this fucking World Class Resort INNERTUBING". I skipped out on the meeting the next and hit the slopes instead. Hils and I spent a coupl'a days buming around V'couver, finding Super Lucky Pigs and eating a shitload of sushi. Hank moved out when I was down in Whitney and into his own place, bringing the end of something like 9 years of co-tenancy. Sad. Having Mr. Greg around certainly softened the blow -- he's a great guy and a good friend and pretty handy around the house. He and I busted out with the Great Sideyard Project of Death, my first true Homeowner project of That Sort. Painful. Started in, oh, February during a dry spell. Became Lake Pollock for a while and then the occasional two-weekends of back-breaking work going through rebar (rebar?) and clay to get it to the next level. We finally got the concrete in about a week before the rain started and it only has one tiny puddle -- I'm very happy with how it turned out. One of the few ones that I've gotten very nearly right. Christ, I'm more than halfway done with the writing and I just got to the point of looking at the photos for reinforcement. I'm in trouble. So, lemme just run through them quickly. New Year's party at my house, up to Brendan's cabin for a kind of quietly fun weekend in January, Easter at the Becks, the afformentioned Whistler trip, cohosting Sinko De Mayo with our honorary roommate Miss Vicki, saw Dave Matthews at Pac Bell Park, shaved the dog for the first time, had a few pool days, hiked a bunch, held a ripping 4th of July party, spent some time at Shavor's, the roadtrip, first-ever yardsale, my "24 Hours Of Unemployment" tour up to my old summer camp with my friend Roy, and a huge Halloween party. Okay, covered those. It was a wedding-tastic year, as my photos confirm. I got to be my friend Dennis' Best Man at a really nice wedding up in Tahoe in King's Beach. I somehow got the Luck Of The Traveller on my hotel selection and got a huge corner room overlooking the beach like two days beforehand. Four doors down a rental-shoe-ruining walk to the convention center. Fantastic. Hils and I took some time up there and kinda chilled out in the wake of 9/11. Was good. Recentering. Quite the honor to be the BM, too. During this same time I'd just gotten back from my roadtrip and was then immediately off to Boise for The Consultancy. It was probably the singlemost worst timing to go there to be able to do Serious Work because I was coming off the 'trip and trying to get a bachelor party together from several states off. Idaho at that. It was okay 'cause I think my coworkers were a little bored. We ended up 4x'ing across cornfields, hitting the minibar as if we were rock stars, tracking "HI" in the decorative gravel so you could see it from the hotel room, and driving up to see THE GIANT FUCKING CROSS. Hugely flourescently frightening. Oh, at one point me and Andora (really Andi, but then I'd have to explain how that's a girlie name) went to try to find where the girl in the see-through dress had gotten off to, because she'd left what we had thought was the King Dive Bar in all of Boise. Shit, it had some guy passed out on the bar at 7 which we considered to be a good sign. Okay, I think I'm finally at the ending bit. In the beginning of what was going to be an amazing summer in an amazing year in the indespitably 21st century I got to be The Cardinal again. Always a nice thing to be able to bring out the old robes and do my gig, and especially for this couple. Ken and Betsy are The Good Kind and it was a super-honor to be able to perform the ceremony for them. They had a medievally-themed one, much like the first one I did, but the difference here was that they all did it. Its like a hobby for these guys and they got it on without being over the top. There was fencing and banners and neat clothes and red mead (my personal favorite) and just a good time. It was up in Weaverville which is a fun little town to pretend to be a local in for a couple of days and so just the whole thing had an neat family vibe about it. Great people and just three completely fun escapist days. What weddings should be all about in my book. I think I'll leave it at that. 2001 has been an amazing year, filled with some of the most astounding, horrifying and uplifting moments of my 29 years. I'm kinda glad and kinda sad to see it go. I'm entering the first palindromic year of the new century in Florence, Italy, visiting my friend Amy over there with Hilary. Should be good times. Different, anyways. Hell, I don't even know how to say "sir, I don't even know who's goat that is and I never touched it" in Italian. All my best to all of you during this Holiday season. I hope that 2002 is a better year for you all than 2001 was and that it finds you healthy and happy. Good tidings of joy, whever you are.
Happy Holidays, |
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