Last year I gave thanks to many things, including hope. In hindsight that may have been a remarkably stupid thing to write — the hopes, wishes, and dreams I embraced last year have all turned to dust — but I still keep my eyes open, looking for the light and the chance for redemption.
I'm also less prone to languish and let the rest of life sweep past me. It's an upside to the shitstorm that has been 2013, and I have learned to appreciate the power of storms, no matter what falls from their clouds.
So as Thanksgiving 2013 approaches, I give thanks:
-To friends, old and new. Especially the new ones, because they're willing to put up with me, despite my occasional fits. This means you, Malibu.
-I'm grateful to Moloney, to Marjorie, to Melinda, to Minard, to Missie. Mad about Addie, too. And crazy about Julie. The guy who plays the role of Gay Dad is surrounded by great women. That seems fitting.
-My fella friends are not as pretty but are no less meaningful. Thank you, Mike and Tim, Dan and Don, Nate and Kansas, Harv and JT and Keith.
-I give thanks and praise to the Amazons not already mentioned here. They have sustained me in myriad ways and kept me from flying off the edge of the universe.
-To my brothers, Robert and Richard, I send great love and peace.
-Thank you so much, Amy and Andy.
-Thank you, LAW.
-Thank you, Lisa.
-Thank you, legs, for not failing me.
-Thank you, dear reader, for sticking around.
-Thank you, fellow toilers at the Paragraph Factory. In more ways than one, you're my family. Spencer and Daniel deserve specific mention because they rattle the bars of my monkey cage.
-Thank you, diacetylmorphine, for not killing me, and for letting me kick your ass. That'll teach you to fuck with me.
-Thank you, sworn enemies, for giving me something to look forward to every day. I relish your enmity. I drink it like a milkshake.