It’s been so long. Such a long, hard road. Does anyone remember those days anymore?

Those days were so carefree ... I would hop into my brand-new Toyota RAV4 and turn up the Chumbawamba — or, after Starship Troopers came out, Blur’s "Song 2."

Yes, I’m referring to the late summer of 1997. It was a time of promise. It was a time of glorious creativity. It was a time before there were more than sixteen nightlife publications in Boston, before the New Beetle, before Kent State. It was a time of glorious sexual experimentation. We were like gods, with firm, youthful bodies. We were young, at loose ends. We started the Weekly Week.

You might be asking: "Why even have a Year in Review issue?" That’s a good question. I won’t lie to you.

But I will say this: We couldn’t have done it without you. No, really. We couldn’t have. I’m serious. It’s all about you. Really. No, I’m not kidding. No — well, no, I’m not — well, okay, we did do it pretty much by ourselves. Except for the printing part — we pay some guys in Worcester to do that.

Over the past twelve months, I feel like I’ve lived a thousand lives and died a thousand deaths. I’ve seen mountain ranges and vast oceans untouched by human artifice. I’ve gone beyond the here and now and towards the inner infinity that the doors of consciousness close off. In short, at the Weekly Week, I do little, if any, actual work.

I hope that you enjoy this special issue. We spent weeks and weeks trying to find our best stuff from the past year and translate it into a language we can all understand.

(Note: The paper isn’t really in Esperanto).