There’ll be a reckoning, and a full telling of all the stories, but for now, here’s the juicy bit of my travel to Brazil. I twittered a bunch and got people all up in arms and worried, so here’s the disclosure to calm beating hearts.

We went to Foz do Iguacu on an ill-thought out trip for bad reasons, and it went kind of all to hell. The place was all disneyfied, the town was kind of lame, the food wasn’t interesting, etc, etc, but it was going to be fine.

Until we went to the airport to leave.

But first some backstory. I went to Brazil to spend time with my pal J. He moved down there some months ago to hang with pals in Belo Horizonte, and has a really nice life of hanging out, working on some tech stuff in the US, spending time with pals and generally enjoying life. I love his setup, and he does too. But, he is not, how shall we say, legal. He has a visa that may have expired some time ago.

So, back to the airport near the Argentine border:

We have a reservation for the plane together, and I go to check in and they ask for a passport instead of just an ID. Apparently, since this airport is near the border, they want to make sure you have a valid visa to be in Brazil, in case you snuck across in the jungle from Paraguay or something. Thus, panic sets in. We know that J will be deported or detained if he checks into the plane, so we send him out of the airport to go have a smoke outside.

I, incredibly stupidly, check my bag and get a boarding pass.

After realizing that he’s doomed, I decide to play hero and rent us a car last minute to take an exciting all night 1,600km roadtrip across Brazil to parts unknown. It’s all touch-and-go (sniff, record label how I miss you), since I’ve just failed to get an international drivers license a week earlier (Thanks for the try Hudson!!). Luckily my tactics of distraction and asking endless stupid questions means that Hertz never asks for anything other than my passport and CA driver’s license (and a serious credit card).

SO WE’RE OFF! It’s a big adventure, and I’m going to learn to drive on Brazilian roads and we’re going to have a fun roadtrip! We head back to the hotel to use their computers to print out some google map foo (heaven forbid anyone in the fucking town sell a goddamned map or iphone charger). Big ups for Mercure hotel chain, because they totally saved our asses. We get some snacks, we get some cokes, and we head out with our maps. Which I inputted the wrong STARTING address, so this is clearly not auspicious. Sheesh. J saves the day with just good navigation techniques.

The timing of the project was meant to coincide with the end, not the beginning. I meant for it to end January 20, 2009. The day that I finally saw a politician that I respect, a man I look up to, take the oath of office. I had tears in my eyes and love in my heart as I watched him inspire us all again, with thousands of my fellow San Franciscans in the beautiful California sunshine. I have profound regret for not following my father’s advice, or my heart, and working as hard on this campaign as I did with Kerry, but I also have such a shared sense of pride with My Fellow Americans, to have done as much as we all could do in our own ways.

My project started for other reasons too though. Part of it was to prove to the world that I’m hippie enough to try and find something beautiful in the day, and that I’m not ashamed to be proud of it. But the real reason, above dates and public displays, above ideals and politics, was that I was depressed.

I needed a way out of a long dark hallway. Ideas created in my own head that no longer served anyone’s best interests held fast around me then, and the only way I could see to get out was just to try to find something good. anything good. So I went looking. Looking in the way that I live my everyday; I’ve not been the guy to take the vow of silence, the solo hike on the Appalachian trail, or the trek across faraway lands. I enjoy the nuance and the detail of every seemingly mundane day. And I found some things. Sometimes it was forced, but soon enough, I found a way to take that joy into myself instead of just observing it, and writing things down mattered less.

I found a new friend and embarked on another 100 day journey, this of the body and not the mind with pushups! I found a playmate, have been kind, and smiled more.

But all that considered, Really? The day it got better? I fucking put on the Pink song “So What” the morning of December 1, and I played it OVER and OVER and OVER again. And then I turned the volume up a lot, and I played it AGAIN and AGAIN. And then I got in my car, and put all the windows down, and turned the stereo up as loud as I could bear, and played it ON REPEAT again and again. And I shit you not, I broke myself. I had this huge dark, scary, omnipresent, bad cloud over my head, and no amount of therapy can ever stand up to POP MUSIC.

I bought my ticket. I’m going to Brazil to see one of my best pals, J next. I’m ready for the next thing. But before I go, here’s what I saw today:

ps: Right now, I can see a Zeppelin flying over San Francisco from my big comfy chair, with the best cat in the world in my lap, and I’ve got to say that I think that’s all pretty great.

pps: i haven’t had a drink or more than one coffee in four days. but don’t let that colour your perception of the above