Another year grinds its way into the dust

Anno Domini 2005 is nearly finished, and thank God. I'll apologize again for lackadaisical posting, but at the moment I'm home in upstate New York and I've little motivation for doing much in the way of anything, apart from reading and going on the occasional bourbon bender.

Speaking of which, my apologies also to anyone I ran into Monday night. If you were there, you'd remember, and if not, so much so the better. Enough on that.

I've been re-reading Hunter S. Thompson's collected letters in "The Proud Highway," which contains exerpts from his extensive correspondence between 1955 and 1967, during which he joined and left the Air Force, traveled to South America, wrote a novel (unpublished until recently, "The Rum Diary") and generally lived as a starving writer, prowling the expanses of the western hemisphere.

It's been good to get some new perspective on journalism, because frankly, I've been feeling pretty burnt-out on the stuff. There's little at Fort Knox that feels significant anymore, and even the important stories can't be covered the way they ought to be: with a cynical eye cast toward anyone holding important titles and spouting optimistic nonsense.

The trick, I'm sure, is to keep writing -- for publication and otherwise -- and make sure to stay sharp. That way I'll be ready for when I finally hang up the uniform for good and get on to bigger and better things.

That's it for now. Stay tuned for a vacation adventure story or two.

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