WARNING: This essay contains adult content, graphic sexual situations, full frontal nudity, gratuitous drug and alcohol abuse, vulgar and obscene language, depictions of grossly deviant behavior, scenes of stomach-turning violence, incitement to riot, slander, libel, defamation, and references to bestiality. Additionally, some text was poached from a previously published essay on the author’s old blog.
Just kidding. For the most part. First of all, I’d like to take a moment to thank all those people who contributed to the Black Sunshine Media experience in 2012, including my wife Janice, for being a super-sleuth and finding things I would have otherwise missed; Timogan for his time and effort in the Visual Division; contributing writers Adam Baxter and Adrien S; our Chicago connection, Ronnie Kwasman for his exceedingly good taste and influence on our musical direction; Taipei photographer Ian Kuo, for his work on The Lazy Bastard Guide to Mandarin; Francois Wilson and The International Scholar; all the hosers in the Taipei Volunteer Fire Department; our radio heroes, Bob and Ron’s Record Club for being the best radio program ever; my family and friends for their continued support; and of course, you, the reader.
2012 is over and even though the bulk of this essay has been written for more than a month, I’ve purposely held it back. There are at least two good reasons most normal people don’t write year-end “Best of” lists or “The Year in Review” essays:
- It was hardly a year we want to remember.
- Nobody cares.
That’s fair enough, don’t you think? Didn’t someone’s mother say if you can’t say something nice then don’t say anything at all? I think she did. You have to agree that on some level, people who spend any amount of time on The Year in Review type-shit, are probably smug, narcissistic, and fundamentally anti-social individuals who get off on boasting about all the stuff you missed or weren’t fortunate enough to be a part of. There are exceptions to this rule; some folks just have interesting lives that are worth a 15-minute read on your lunch break.
Therefore, I do not consider myself to have a particularly interesting or fascinating life; that I choose to write about it is a personal decision based on the amount of time I spend on other topics. While I’ve followed what you might call a “different trajectory” than most of my friends and family, it’s not altogether unique. I look around my neighborhood(s) in Taipei and Makati and occasionally see guys who are basically having the same experience. A couple of my friends have lived infinitely more interesting lives and have better stories to tell. Therefore, every story I might be able to tell has been told before, although maybe not with the same panache.
Since April 2008, I have written somewhere between 1.8 and 5.4 million words, depending upon whether or not we include the stuff that actually pays the rent. Let’s not and call it 1.8 million words. [1,500 words a day, which is one bottle of wine. It’s like an hour-glass. After I open the bottle, by the time I’ve finished it, there will be 1,500 words on the page.] Not including my work-for-hire output, approximately 400,000 of these words were published or are slated for publication before the end of this five-year cycle, meaning a little over 10 percent of what comes out of my head actually makes it to “print.” Now, if I were being paid by the word, say the rate of five cents per, we’re talking $4,000 a year, which is hardly enough to care for a pet, let alone a family of three plus a live-in yaya.
2011 was a fairly remarkable year for me, well, us. Janice and I married in March. She got pregnant in April. We planned for an early 2012 arrival of our son, Henry Gabriel Nilo Adams aka The Chief. If you put that up against the events of any year in the previous four decades, you wouldn’t find much more important and better stuff. As the New Year began, I was already pretty certain that 2012 was going to be a year unlike any other, but keep in mind that one of my mottos is: “Expect nothing, never be disappointed.”