This day in sailing history, we assembled a fleet of pizzas, convened our motley crew of New England friends and family, and threw ourselves a going away party in Fairhaven, Massachusetts.
At this time we were just starting to develop what would become our most valuable form of social currency: homemade pizza. A sailor’s budget is restrictive, especially if you are on land. The normal ways that people communicate friendship – exchanging gifts, picking up a tab, etc. – are a bit out of our grasp (at least on a regular basis). Compound that with the fact that as travelers, we are destined to be the new kids on the block again and again, and it seemed at first we would be spending a lot of time by ourselves.
At least until we fully understood the power of Pizzas As Far as the Eye Can See.
I lived in Boulder, Colorado from 1995-1998. I went to school there, and I really loved it. I look back on my days there with a mix of feelings that I have been sitting here awhile trying to describe. Can’t find words for it. In the body it sort of feels like a butterflies-in-the-stomach thing mixed equal thirds dread and nostalgia. It’s not a 100% pleasant feeling. But Boulder, USA in the late 90s was a … time.
I didn’t have the most conventional experience at a big state school. I wasn’t in a sorority and I went to only one football game (when my parents visited) – although “Go Buffs!” comes as easy to me as “Go Buccs!”. For my final year, I spent a semester working among a community of nuns in Houston (another post for another day), and then went abroad to Ecuador. I never came back to graduate, and I haven’t been back to Colorado at all since.
On this plane I can already catch the vibe, man. Boulder people. My studio with the red window, Neil Young on rotation, surviving for months on contraband Illegal Pete’s, my Mom’s porch in Chautauqua, the smell of formaldehyde/fruit fly agar/photo lab, Drew leaving, Sundowner vs. Soma vs. K’s China, going as Sweep-the-leg Johnny for Halloween, etc.
I fear that if I spend a day there my memory bank will rupture from the swift return of material long buried deep in the stacks.
I have been spending more time working on the boat. I was sanding off our miserable failure of a paint job, trying my best to keep the toxic dust from spewing overboard by using this little bag that screws onto the exhaust of the sander. A little jelly came by, and I made this video about her. It has photo overlays, blurry fades, slo-mo, and seagulls.