Listening to tracks from Vegas by The Crystal Method takes me back to the year 2001. Driving around in the Integra was still a pretty new thing for me, and I remember in particular driving around with M. on a warm summer night. Keep Hope Alive was blasting from the stereo as we pulled out of the parking lot behind the Angelic to head east.

I don’t remember what we were doing or where we were going. The smart money is on “nothing in particular.” I idled away almost all of my time in the years since 2000 when I reconnected with M. in Madison. Lots of this, that, and the other thing. Countless nights spent either shooting pool at Cue-nique or drinking at the Irish Pub (usually both), forming no meaningful friendships with anyone new in the process. I didn’t really know much about myself or (it seemed) anything for that matter, so I figured I could just continue tagging along to experience whatever M. was up to on any given day. Turns out I was trying to be drinking buddies with an alcoholic.

Some people claim your early twenties are the best years of your life. Mine weren’t. They were the emptiest. I abused my body, and my spirit followed it down during those years when I just didn’t have a clue or much of a personality to speak of. I felt that way so through-and-through that I’m sure people could see it. I think that’s why I needed M…to have a reason to be doing something, anything.

After I quit my job, spent a few months in Baraboo, and moved back to Madison in 2003 to set about putting my life back together, things were different. I think it was then that I made the first strides toward really doing things myself — things that were in my best interest. I started writing in a journal. I started caring about my health. I got back into dating. I took up kung fu. I met a girl that I thought I might marry some day if only she wouldn’t move away. Things weren’t quite on the right track yet, but my life was far better than it had been.

That album is colored with recollections of a lot of following along, a lot of partying…a whole lot of nothing. To hear it again is at once sentimental and unsettling.