Favorite adventures ever, in no particular order: sailing a 32' sloop in the Bahamas as every system on board--engine, toilet, electricals, eventually frizzed out; riding a motorcycle across country from Savannah, GA to Santa Fe, New Mexico, at 110 mph in 110 degree heat; hitchhiking through the West Bank (yeah, wouldn't do that again); taking up theater late enough in life to completely confuse whatever misbegotten idea of myself I'd ever had; driving 35,000 mile across Canada and the US in three months; hiking solo in the Wind River Mountains just long enough to think it was a pretty stupid thing to do; getting engaged to a woman as fierce and smart and driven to live honestly and compassionately and fully (without any fixed idea of what that should look like) as any person I've ever met; some meaningful love affairs that were, in hindsight, obviously doomed, but from which I emerged more dimensional and a better (if still twitchy and weird) human being.
No gold stars for any of this. No "success." No "fame." Just a weird scurrying through the world in which scraps of meaning managed to get picked up. I ain't no scholar. I ain't no warrior. I ain't no paterfamilias nor founder of a line of conquerers. I ain't nuth'n but a guy with a rather acute conscience but no cause. It's a journey, friend.
Life's mundane. Life's boring. Life's surprising Life's unrelentingly full. Life's a story we tell ourselves. What life isn't is... a story others tell about us.
Live, baby. Live.
Sh*t, pass that bottle. Thanks.