I can’t say that 2009 was especially or uniformly awful for me, but it had the overall tone and quality of an annus horribilis in so many ways for so many people that I feel well rid of it. On the bright side, we got to see so many wonderful people and make a lot of new friends, including the splendiforous Jodi, whom we saw not once, not twice, but three times. Truly, you can barely hear a thing over the sound of how awesome she is. Our trip to New Orleans for the Saints & Sinners Literary Festival was not only the first time we got to meet Timothy Lambert, Becky Cochrane, Greg Herren, and Rob Byrnes in person. We also had the pleasure of meeting ‘Nathan and his husband, Dan, who make me want us to move to Canada and change our citizenship. We also met David Puterbaugh and his BF, Lindsey and her wife Rhonda, Marika, and Lisa, all of whom made my face hurt from laughing and smiling constantly. And I saw, for the first time in ten years, my friend Mary Margaret from college.
On top of that, I saw my first and second short stories published, and made considerable headway on the novel. Next year will, I hope, be even more productive.
Apart from that, and some spectacular traveling that I’ve already chronicled here, 2009 was about as much fun as a raging case of syphilis. Ignoring all of the financial crap that went down like a cheap whore on a family-values Republican, last year wound down with all the joy of a funeral. Our last cat, Boris, died in the fall, relatives died, and my brother’s beautiful dog, Daisy (pictured above with my brother, in a photo taken by my niece), suddenly and unexpectedly died on New Year’s Eve, breaking his heart and many others’. It was sort of like the year’s bitch-slap, and if I could, I’d shank 2009.
So, fuck you, last year. We are through.