2008: The Year in Junk

It's been a hell of a ride this year -- thrills, chills and spills on the personal, national and global fronts. Whatever this year was, I think that I and the world are at a very different place than we were 12 months ago. There are plenty of reasons to be gloomy, but this year has reminded me of the eternal power of potential, collective and individual will and that hackneyed yet still inspiring word: change.

I offer these images in no coherent order, chronology or priority. As blogger bud Tug Boat Dave says is my philosophy: "It doesn't have to make sense, it just has to take up space." But sometimes, in the mere act of taking space, meaning miraculously emerges. Or maybe it's just what we delude ourselves into believing is reality.

So, here is some verbal junk to accompany the visual junk of the year whose expiration date will turn in about five hours (at least in the PTZ).

Near riots ensue when the Castro Theater cancels The V.I.P.s. Sauntering down Wall Street as panic ensues at announcement of the failure of the first bailout. Sauntering over the Mission Dolores Park for the Hunky Jesus Pageant. Saying goodbye to a feline companion of 18 years. Saying hello to an African canine princess arriving on a flight from Kalamazoo. Blogger meet up bliss, wine and greasy Chinese at 2 a.m. south of Houston Street and far east of Houston, Texas. Walking with the dead on Dia de los Muertos. Living in the shadows of the dead as gang violence ensues in the east Mission. Saying hello and just as soon goodbye to Guru, basenji foster #1. A whirlwind of cuys, mountains and diminishing glaciers in Ecuador. Three trips to LA without time to see my blogger buds there and realizing I've been there one more time than I have been to the Castro. Selling off the family compound of 50 years in the heat of August. Turning 52 and feeling healthier than I did at 28. Entering year three of blogging. Remembering being stuck in George Bush International Airport four years earlier when his son "defeated" John Kerry and then being part of spontaneous dancing at 18th and Valenica on November 4. Watching Estelle Parsons march up and down stairs at age 80 at the Music Box Theater. Taking the last ferry out of Vashon Island in the chilly January night. Hearing a bitter ex say "I'm sorry" 22 years too late and then finding the will to forgive. Having two close, wonderful encounters with Guy Maddin in San Francisco movie theaters. Transforming rooms of my home and feeling that removing old paint, carpet and veneers was a way of also finally burying bitter old grudges. Waking up on a Sunday morning next to Bow with her sweet, forgiving almond shaped eyes that show the ability of all creatures' ability to forgive, trust and extend unlimited love even after being attacked, abandoned and ignored.