• I made a SCUL calendar, as I have done for eleven consecutive years.
• I received Best in Show and Staff Pick awards at Aresia.
• After twenty years of drinking heavily every night, I quit cold turkey and have not had a serious urge to drink in nearly a year.
• I made the decision to move the Fort, and pay 220% of what I was paying in order to live on my own, despite the fact I have not had a raise in over two years. I have managed to reduce frivolous spending to make this happen.
• I organized and led a massive campaign move and settle into the new fort, and thanked those who were a part of it.
• I managed to survive the serious side effects of alcohol withdrawal, including losing 35 pounds in one month (and keeping it off), having metaphysical panic attacks, and loss of vocabulary.
• I participated in Somerville Open Studios by completely transforming the apartment into a gallery after only a month and a half of living here.
• I survived a complete computer meltdown days before Aplhamission, including access to all my music, on MP3PO or any droid.
• I managed to roll with a major shift in SCUL culture, and was available and calm for any pilot who needed to talk, despite going through previously stated alcohol withdrawal.
• I worked on the SCUL field manual all year, and am very close to completing the first edition.
• Thanks to having my good friends, I have free welding facilities a short walk from the Fort.
• I hosted and taught a week long robot-welding class to a fourteen year old boy and his father.
• I was a real hit at Art Beat, and managed to throw a three hour dance party using only a Cloudbuster and some caution tape.
• Made peace with neighbors and got them informed about SCUL, respected their needs and got SCUL to do the same.
• Kept morale up all season, despite many many radiation filled Saturnights.
• Housed SCUL pilots on three separate occasions who were in need of shelter, totaling seven weeks.
• Took my art in a new direction with The Portal of Skunkatude.
• With the help of stalwart friends, moved a dentist chair our of a basement in Allston to Level 2 at the Fort, while healing from a serious stripper-pole induced rib injury, and a Cloudbuster crash the very night before. That on top of piloting Cloudbuster to and from Winthrop by the Sea.
• With the help of Paywaket, Retard and Zipcar, moved eight full-sized metal card catalog cabinets from a basement in Andover to the backyard.
• Moving all eight cabinets by myself to Level 2 in one day, knocking off my big toenail off while lifting the first cabinet at the bottom of the stairs.
• Redesigned the SCUL logo.
• Completely rewrote my secret code, made it read vertically, and immediately implemented it my journal without any practice.
• Managed to expand my talents at work, really growing into the role of graphic designer.
• Brought in about a dozen new pilots, embroidered their colors, got to know them so they really are in SCUL.
• Hosted SCUL every Saturnight for six months (with the exception of two nights), which I have been doing for over ten years.
• Hosted MRC many of those afternoons, as I have done for over ten years. I used to do all of them, and they were six hours long, right before the SCUL mission prep began.
• Was available for welding from all pilots who requested it, and managed to participate in some miraculously fast repairs.
• Kept Cloudbuster in the air for nearly the entire season, despite two consecutive structural failures, five consecutive primary thruster failures. Keep in mind the ship is about 200 pounds. Cloudbuster also suffered two sonic disruptor dish meltdowns, and three landing gear failures, resulting in serious damage to the Disco Deth Stah), and premature warp core drain.  It was also completely rewired and given a new paint job.
• Made popcorn for the pilots after the mission. I know it’s not much, but I’m proud of it anyways.
• Rode Cloudbuster from Providence to Home, taking nine grueling hours after spending the day in Providence.
• Made a box for the Nave.
• Turned forty.
• Hosted a roller skating party for above.
• Determined medal-winners, and created nine trophies for SCUL pilots, and gave them out on the field during a rainstorm on a heavily-populated slow-moving fleet on Omega mission, and managed not to cry.
• Managed to close the season without season burnout, which I’ve been known to do every year. In yo’ FACE!
• Managed to stay out of debt, despite the fact I was spending $8.50 and two hours and ten minutes each day on cigarettes.
• Quit smoking. Which is why I’m irritable about all I had to go through this year to accomplish all this.

I think I feel a little better. Not sure until I eat something.

Maggot-dinners: sounds pretty bad, doesn’t it? Quite the opposite. When someone would like to join SCUL, there is an induction period. They find a Host: someone who is already in SCUL (a pilot), and they show them the ropes. There’s a tremendous amount of protocol and culture to learn, and it takes a while to grasp it all, and for us to get to know the new trainee. Near the end of the training we have a get-together between Maggot and Fleet Admiral. They make a dinner, and I make their wings. It takes about two hours to embroider the SCUL logo and the pilot name for the maggot to have. During that time we go over the pilot checklist and make sure that all the basics are covered: pilot page up with a picture and a description, basic understanding of protocol, etc.

These last two dinners were particularly enlightening to me.  You see, the Maggots have a revered place in SCUL. They are the ones who have the fresh perspective on the gang: what’s working, and what’s not. Since SCUL is constantly evolving (I never believe that we’re doing everything in the best possible way, and therefore always looking for ways to do it better), it’s vital to our growth to have this perspective. There are times when old pieces of SCULture don’t fit anymore, and it’s a great feeling when light from a different perspective lets you re-evaluate.

Maggot-Raven was over Tuesday. She make tofu soaked in soy and rolled in flour and sesames, fried up in sesame oil, with udon noodles and romaine lettuce in a mild vinaigrette. I tell you, the maggots go all out: an unexpected treat for the old Admiral. as we were going through the pilot form, she pointed out that she was unaware that her description should be spoken in her superhero voice. This got me thinking a great deal about how I should be gearing the induction process, and how I command. Even the pilot form should be set in a tone that inspires the things that make maggots and pilots into their own superheroes. I realized the question about describing yourself for the pilot page wsa far too dry to elicit a fun, superhero answer. Asking the right questions is very important.

Last night Maggot-Kpafun had his maggot-dinner: swordfish, rice, yams, tomatoes, onion, peas, lima beans, spinach, garlic, and fried plantains. It was an ordeal to say the least. He brought his sweetie Oom Ya Ya and Schvester as show and tell (oh, Raven brought a video she made back in Tennessee). Show and tell is encouraged. Maggot-Kpafun is particularly excited to join SCUL, and conversation was like a polish on the old brass, it really got us shining. After he left, my thoughts were on how amazing our Pilots and Maggots have been this year. I realized we were missing a chunk of protocol.

When a ‘Babymaggot’ (a Maggot on their first mission) becomes a Maggot, there undergo a mild hazing ritual. The Host asks “Is there any reason we shouldn’t let this Maggot join SCUL?” and the pilot make fun of them a bit. It’s all very tame; like “their shoes match” or “they smile too much”. Real soft stuff. Then we all say “aw what the Hell, let’s have them anyway!”, and we hug and cheer. It’s quite charming if it’s done right.

But what’s missing is a step in the knighting ceremony. I’d like to initaite a ‘reverse-hazing’, where pilots are asked “Is there any reason why we should let this Maggot become a Pilot. Then all the Pilots can barrage the Maggot with all sorts of positive things to say about our newest member. If the Maggot is ready, we’ll have plenty of posi fodder to hurl.

After thirteen years of leading SCUL, I’m beginning to recognize my true responsibilities in this fine gang. It is my job to unite the group as a team, and to bring out the best in the group and the individual. To give the Pilot ownership in the group, and to help them make it their own. To step out of the way when they are adding their own distinctive posiness to SCUL. This season has been an awakening of new philosophies and strategies. As a group, I feel like we have just begun to get our true wings.

A leader is only as good as the gang he brings together. I am immensely proud to serve such a thoughtful, talented, tireless team.

This journal has been sporadically kept since 1985. I’ve been using a homegrown brand of runes to code it. There was a book making project at the Holliston High School art class, and we got extra credit if we illustrated it. I had just cracked the secret code on the inside flap of this book I found on the shelf called “the Hobbit”, so I thought it would be cool to use that. However the day I was to begin penciling in the text I forgot the translation sheet. I decided to make up what I couldn’t remember. Well, by the time I was done writing the whole book I had the code memorized. Since then it has evolved into new complex sets of rules. I call the code “Mephistis”, after the Latin name for Skunk, Mephistis Mephistis. Sounds exotic and vulgar at the same time.