Cycho Librarian

365 days, 365 photos. Sunrises, sunsets, woods, mountains, lakes, fields, cities, bike rides, hikes, friends, celebrations, and the ordinary beauty of the everyday. It's more than a little odd to see an entire year reduced to a single image. On the one hand it makes the year seem very short, very small. On the other hand, it's incredible to see what one year, or one image, can contain. Every image in this has a story, and each story intersects other stories. In one image is an entire world, and in this one image is the entire year. Who I was on January 1 is completely different from who I was on December 31, and there's no way anyone could have predicted the path I would take to get there. And yet, here it is captured in a single image. The sense of place a photograph gives you makes this so much more powerful than just a journal. I can remember exactly where I was when I took each shot, where I was going, what I was doing, how I was feeling, what I was thinking. Da...

So what am I really thankful for? I’m thankful for my home; cozy and warm, with cats curled up beside me. I’m thankful for Mozart, Haydn, Brahms, and Mahler, and the chance to sing them to thousands. I’m thankful for art; in galleries, on streets, danced on a stage, seen in a museum. I’m thankful for pizza, beer, and Douglass Street. I'm thankful for comfortable saddles and chain tools. I’m thankful for a place on the floor at the SOMC Life Center, and getting stuck at railroad crossings. I’m thankful for my Light and Motion Urban 550 and Scioto Trails after dark. I’m thankful for people who think it’s a good idea to ride 50 miles to a garden. I’m thankful for chainsaws and friends who know how to use them. I’m thankful for mosh pits in Pearl Alley. I’m thankful for sprints in the dark. I’m thankful for Lower Twin and Mingo Road. I’m thankful for Ohiopyle, Cumberland, the big slackwater, Harper’s Ferry, Silver Spring, and the Dubliner. I’m thankful for tomatoes and fires. I’m th...

I don't care about birthdays. To be clear, this doesn't mean that I don't like birthdays, or that I have some sort of pathological aversion to getting older. I literally don't care about birthdays. My birthday rolls around, and most of the time my only reaction is, "oh yeah, it's my birthday again, isn't it?" I've had people suggest that I'm avoiding some deep seated anxiety about getting older, but seriously, I really don't care. Since I've been divorced, it's been a good excuse to throw a party and have some friends over, but I could do that any time. Granted, people are more likely to show up when it's my birthday, but all I really want is to hang out with my friends. Against all of this, this time it's different. As much as I'd like to think that this is just another number, it is a landmark. Both because we happen to have ten fingers and so have a weird affinity for intervals of ten, but also because of how it...