Giftmas was extra magical this year. I launched my first tree, found last summer curbside-sad while on an alley jog through East Isles.
Rob liked his Lucha Libre mask.
Joe was skeptical of his gift,
but pleasantly surprised!
Mom scandalized yuletide by gifting Greg a reindeer part.
But she made up for it with the punching nun:
I have a hard time relaxing. Every hour is structured, how else will life and death get done? and when the warm weather comes and wants my sweat, I kinda freak out. Fun is so much fun, but the sun, so unproductive.
Thanks, Sam, for inciting adventure. At 2 a.m. we sneak on a riverboat with a bindle of beer to cruise the Mississippi while jigging to a jug band and listening to a lecture on intellectual property and stories about riverfolk. The captain inquires over loudspeaker, Do teenagers even listen to Joy Division anymore? and announces that he’s a wedding officiant, so if anyone wants to get married—right—now—just let him know.
The banks of the river in darkest night are otherworldly, but that’s just an expression.
This is, in fact, the world that I live in.
Who would have thought you would still have your pride?
Anna took this picture at dive-bar karaoke. We sang “Pump Up the Jam,” it is the longest song ever, and EMF’s “Unbelievable,” which we mangled. It was stellar, a night to remember, I can do things that are stupid but still scare me.
Christmas happened, draining, driving all over groundstorming North Dakota, thinking about Thailand and alternate realities. Joe brought back twin Buddhas,
once. Shit, little brother, how’d you get so big?
New Year’s was a riot, YouTubing 2010’s greatest hits, sixth-grade paparazzi pants on the ground, trololo double rainbow, we goan find you, bringing in the decade with the classic shouted countdown, with baby vuvuzelas and glints in eyes.
At the stroke of midnight, I popped champagne. I never did that before. It worked, just like the movies, just a bit on the floor, and like a million other Americans in Central Time, we googled “Auld Lang Syne” and still managed to butcher it, but we had a real piano, and someone who knew how to play it, and then we danced to Prince ‘cause this is Minnefuckinapolis, and MGMT, Janelle Monáe and Beyoncé.
The winter takes my breath away, the dark, my want to do a damn thing but put on my Olympic sweatpants and sleep till spring.
Nonetheless, 2011, you are on notice. Behind the seen, I been getting sharp, see, the forest for the trees I been felling with a scalpel, building me a castle of a thousand perfect cuts and the bones of precious dead darlings.
