They grow up so fast. (Gus and Ernie, ten years apart: 2008, 2018; I’m amused that both photos of Gus are blurry.)
(For those wondering, they still look like they did in 2018.)
It’s the first day of San Diego Comic-Con 2019. (Well, it’ll soon be Preview Night, technically; but that’s the first day, really.) As you read this, I’ll be in the air on the way to the show itself, but I thought I’d share this piece of Comic-Con ephemera — me on Preview Night 2008, looking every bit of the excitable nerd that I was back in the day. (Look at that smile.) I’m pretty sure this is the first year that I covered the show as press.
Recently rescued from what, I assume, is now a dead and gone Flickr account, this is Lunacat. (“Luna,” for short; it was, as you might imagine, her full name to begin with, but then “Lunacat” took root and replaced it.) She was a stray who followed us home in San Francisco, years and years and years ago — it was close to 15 years ago, if not more — and ended up living with us all the way until her death, after Portland had become home.
She had cancer, in the end. In fact, these photos are from her surgery to remove a tumor, when she was given six months or so to live. (That’s why she’s been shaved so oddly; it’s where the surgery had taken place, and also on her leg, where the IV had been put in. It’s also why her neck is so big; it was a side effect from the anesthetic.) She survived for years after that, too stubborn to give up, and too filled with love to say goodbye.
Losing her was, still, one of the saddest periods of my life, and I still miss her all the time. Pets become part of us in a way that few people do, perhaps.
All photos taken within a year or so of moving to Portland. I became interested in colors and lines, apparently.
(I’m not sure when or why I stopped taking photos like these; I don’t have any after 2010, but I’m unsure if that’s because I stopped taking them, or I stopped keeping them. Either way, it’s a habit I wish I hadn’t gotten out of. I like these investigations of my environments.)
I’m writing this on the plane back from Chicago at the end of Star Wars Celebration — a five day trip (and four day convention experience) that pretty much took over more than a week of my life considering the prep required to be able to leave in the first place. To give a brief idea of what it was like — and, more honestly, to keep track of things for myself — here are photos I posted to Twitter from the show, most of which from the first afternoon when everything was new and exciting and not oh my God is there actually life outside this massive convention center which is somehow also two hotels how does that even work.
(No, really, how does that work? It was a really strange thing.)
Playing in the morning/As you may need a reminder of where I am/And if it’s morning/It must be morning. (“Returns Every Morning,” Lilys, 1996)
I remember telling a lot of people, at the time and in the immediate aftermath, that last year’s San Diego Comic Con was a very strange and emotional experience for me, but what’s interesting looking back at it was how true that was without me realizing it at the time — but it was San Diego that crystalized a lot of feelings that I was having about where I was (and wasn’t) in my life, and just as importantly, opened my eyes to the potential that was out there that I hadn’t really allowed myself to really think about before. I’m very self-conscious about it, to be honest; who has a week of emotional epiphanies at a comic book convention? The answer, I’ve learned, is me. I’m not sure if these images are actually both from the flights to and from Comic-Con that year — they almost certainly can’t be, that’s almost too perfect that I had them on my phone — but in my head they are, and that’s pretty much all that really matters, in a strange way.