The last entry in the main archive is dated June 1, 2002. Native American protesters outside the window on a Saturday morning. An earthquake swarm in Kashmir. Three ferrets. A new apartment with a view of Puget Sound. Yosemite plans with Zack for July. The journal ends there, mid-sentence in the life of a 32-year-old in downtown Seattle who had been writing online since July 31, 2000.

The Wayback Machine captured nothing between June 2002 and August 2004. Two years and two months of silence. What happened in between is not recorded here — but the arc of the journal makes some of it easy to imagine. The Yosemite trip probably happened. The triathlon season continued. The Westin kept going. The ferrets aged. Seattle changed, a little, and didn't, mostly.

The world changed too. The war in Afghanistan continued. Iraq began. The Department of Homeland Security was created. The economy slowly recovered. Seattle went on being Seattle — grey, caffeinated, opinionated, beautiful in July.

When the blog reappears in late August 2004 — now on Blogger, under the name "Collected Thoughts" — it is recognizably the same person. Still at the Westin, still watching ships from the window, still obsessed with the Olympics and rugby and Steinlager. But the format has shifted. The long 3am dispatches are gone. In their place: shorter posts, more links, news items, one-liners. The voice is still there but the camera has pulled back.

A few glimpses: new Merrell work shoes from REI. Ichiro chasing the all-time hits record — "at least in Queen Anne, I am a rather efficient swimmer." Hurricane Ivan on the scanner. A B-17 wreck from January 1952 in the Olympic Mountains, researched and marked for future expedition. Forks flying out of toilets during a massive flood at the Westin. Meeting a man who was involved with the Bathyscaphe Trieste — the vessel that dove to the deepest point on Earth. A professional wrestler on one TV, an ostrich documentary on another. "I think I made the right call."

And on September 11, 2004 — three years on — watching a storm roll in over Seattle while carrying his Gore-Tex jacket on a sunny morning, knowing it would come:

"It has been three years since the attacks, and I recall every single bit of it in super scary detail. Really, the world changed on that day, and frankly, I am still trying to figure it out."

One entry from September 1st hints at what had been building during the silence:

"I don't think I can be a complete person until I get my PhD from either UW or Cal. For the past few years I have been saving all my money to do this, and the time is near. I enjoy atmospheric physics and chemistry, and I figure, why not up the ante on exo-planetary atmospherics, in the exo-biological world?"

The blog continues through the fall and winter of 2004. The voice gets warmer, looser — less urgent, more comfortable. A trip to Las Vegas and Reno for the holidays. Area 51 on Christmas Eve, finding Chuck Clark at the Little A'Le'Inn. A Kia Amanti with heated seats on the drive back to Reno. Snow — five feet at Lake Tahoe, two feet in the front yard, the flights delayed.

Back in Seattle in January 2005: a 36-hour trip to San Francisco, hiking all over Chinatown and North Beach and Coit Tower, bowling until 1am, catching the last flight home with 30 people and a crew who handed out extra snacks. "I can't believe I just pulled off that weekend." A visit planned to Dad at Mt. Rainier. The crack dealers still at 5th and Bell. Still walking a different route home after 1am. Still at the Westin, still counting the ships.

The final post in the Wayback Machine's capture of the blog is dated February 6, 2005. Super Bowl Sunday. He has to work. He is sad about it — had wanted to go to the casino, drink beer, misbehave. Instead he will be in his ivory tower.

"If it was a 49er, or Seahawks game, well no way, I wouldn't even be there. Still, I would much rather be at the party."

And that is the last sentence. Not a conclusion, not a farewell — just a Sunday night in Seattle, a man who would rather be somewhere else, heading off to work.

The blog is still technically up at brooksgroves.blogspot.com. The Wayback Machine captured it one more time in February 2025 — twenty years later — and the last post was still February 6, 2005. No new entries. Just the page, still there, the way things on the internet stay there.

What came after — the PhD, or not. Exoplanetary atmospherics, or not. Whether he ever found that B-17 in the Olympic Mountains. Whether he made it to Namibia. Whether the Westin became five years and then something else — none of that is in this archive. The archive ends here.

What it leaves behind is this: nearly five years of the most honest, strange, alive writing from the edge of the millennium. From a city at the center of everything that was about to happen. From a person who paid attention and wrote it down.

That is enough.

The last entry in the main archive is dated June 1, 2002. Native American protesters outside the window on a Saturday morning. An earthquake swarm in Kashmir. Three ferrets. A new apartment with a view of Puget Sound. Yosemite plans with Zack for July. The journal ends there, mid-sentence in the life of a 32-year-old in downtown Seattle who had been writing online since July 31, 2000.

The Wayback Machine captured nothing between June 2002 and August 2004. Two years and two months of silence. What happened in between is not recorded here — but the arc of the journal makes some of it easy to imagine. The Yosemite trip probably happened. The triathlon season continued. The Westin kept going. The ferrets aged. Seattle changed, a little, and didn't, mostly.

The world changed too. The war in Afghanistan continued. Iraq began. The Department of Homeland Security was created. The economy slowly recovered. Seattle went on being Seattle — grey, caffeinated, opinionated, beautiful in July.

When the blog reappears in late August 2004 — now on Blogger, under the name "Collected Thoughts" — it is recognizably the same person. Still at the Westin, still watching ships from the window, still obsessed with the Olympics and rugby and Steinlager. But the format has shifted. The long 3am dispatches are gone. In their place: shorter posts, more links, news items, one-liners. The voice is still there but the camera has pulled back.

A few glimpses: new Merrell work shoes from REI. Ichiro chasing the all-time hits record — "at least in Queen Anne, I am a rather efficient swimmer." Hurricane Ivan on the scanner. A B-17 wreck from January 1952 in the Olympic Mountains, researched and marked for future expedition. Forks flying out of toilets during a massive flood at the Westin. Meeting a man who was involved with the Bathyscaphe Trieste — the vessel that dove to the deepest point on Earth. A professional wrestler on one TV, an ostrich documentary on another. "I think I made the right call."

And on September 11, 2004 — three years on — watching a storm roll in over Seattle while carrying his Gore-Tex jacket on a sunny morning, knowing it would come:

"It has been three years since the attacks, and I recall every single bit of it in super scary detail. Really, the world changed on that day, and frankly, I am still trying to figure it out."

One entry from September 1st hints at what had been building during the silence:

"I don't think I can be a complete person until I get my PhD from either UW or Cal. For the past few years I have been saving all my money to do this, and the time is near. I enjoy atmospheric physics and chemistry, and I figure, why not up the ante on exo-planetary atmospherics, in the exo-biological world?"

The blog continues through the fall and winter of 2004. The voice gets warmer, looser — less urgent, more comfortable. A trip to Las Vegas and Reno for the holidays. Area 51 on Christmas Eve, finding Chuck Clark at the Little A'Le'Inn. A Kia Amanti with heated seats on the drive back to Reno. Snow — five feet at Lake Tahoe, two feet in the front yard, the flights delayed.

Back in Seattle in January 2005: a 36-hour trip to San Francisco, hiking all over Chinatown and North Beach and Coit Tower, bowling until 1am, catching the last flight home with 30 people and a crew who handed out extra snacks. "I can't believe I just pulled off that weekend." A visit planned to Dad at Mt. Rainier. The crack dealers still at 5th and Bell. Still walking a different route home after 1am. Still at the Westin, still counting the ships.

The final post in the Wayback Machine's capture of the blog is dated February 6, 2005. Super Bowl Sunday. He has to work. He is sad about it — had wanted to go to the casino, drink beer, misbehave. Instead he will be in his ivory tower.

"If it was a 49er, or Seahawks game, well no way, I wouldn't even be there. Still, I would much rather be at the party."

And that is the last sentence. Not a conclusion, not a farewell — just a Sunday night in Seattle, a man who would rather be somewhere else, heading off to work.

The blog is still technically up at brooksgroves.blogspot.com. The Wayback Machine captured it one more time in February 2025 — twenty years later — and the last post was still February 6, 2005. No new entries. Just the page, still there, the way things on the internet stay there.

What came after — the PhD, or not. Exoplanetary atmospherics, or not. Whether he ever found that B-17 in the Olympic Mountains. Whether he made it to Namibia. Whether the Westin became five years and then something else — none of that is in this archive. The archive ends here.

What it leaves behind is this: nearly five years of the most honest, strange, alive writing from the edge of the millennium. From a city at the center of everything that was about to happen. From a person who paid attention and wrote it down.

That is enough.

The last entry in the main archive is dated June 1, 2002. Native American protesters outside the window on a Saturday morning. An earthquake swarm in Kashmir. Three ferrets. A new apartment with a view of Puget Sound. Yosemite plans with Zack for July. The journal ends there, mid-sentence in the life of a 32-year-old in downtown Seattle who had been writing online since July 31, 2000.

The Wayback Machine captured nothing between June 2002 and August 2004. Two years and two months of silence. What happened in between is not recorded here — but the arc of the journal makes some of it easy to imagine. The Yosemite trip probably happened. The triathlon season continued. The Westin kept going. The ferrets aged. Seattle changed, a little, and didn't, mostly.

The world changed too. The war in Afghanistan continued. Iraq began. The Department of Homeland Security was created. The economy slowly recovered. Seattle went on being Seattle — grey, caffeinated, opinionated, beautiful in July.

When the blog reappears in late August 2004 — now on Blogger, under the name "Collected Thoughts" — it is recognizably the same person. Still at the Westin, still watching ships from the window, still obsessed with the Olympics and rugby and Steinlager. But the format has shifted. The long 3am dispatches are gone. In their place: shorter posts, more links, news items, one-liners. The voice is still there but the camera has pulled back.

A few glimpses: new Merrell work shoes from REI. Ichiro chasing the all-time hits record — "at least in Queen Anne, I am a rather efficient swimmer." Hurricane Ivan on the scanner. A B-17 wreck from January 1952 in the Olympic Mountains, researched and marked for future expedition. Forks flying out of toilets during a massive flood at the Westin. Meeting a man who was involved with the Bathyscaphe Trieste — the vessel that dove to the deepest point on Earth. A professional wrestler on one TV, an ostrich documentary on another. "I think I made the right call."

And on September 11, 2004 — three years on — watching a storm roll in over Seattle while carrying his Gore-Tex jacket on a sunny morning, knowing it would come:

"It has been three years since the attacks, and I recall every single bit of it in super scary detail. Really, the world changed on that day, and frankly, I am still trying to figure it out."

One entry from September 1st hints at what had been building during the silence:

"I don't think I can be a complete person until I get my PhD from either UW or Cal. For the past few years I have been saving all my money to do this, and the time is near. I enjoy atmospheric physics and chemistry, and I figure, why not up the ante on exo-planetary atmospherics, in the exo-biological world?"

The blog continues through the fall and winter of 2004. The voice gets warmer, looser — less urgent, more comfortable. A trip to Las Vegas and Reno for the holidays. Area 51 on Christmas Eve, finding Chuck Clark at the Little A'Le'Inn. A Kia Amanti with heated seats on the drive back to Reno. Snow — five feet at Lake Tahoe, two feet in the front yard, the flights delayed.

Back in Seattle in January 2005: a 36-hour trip to San Francisco, hiking all over Chinatown and North Beach and Coit Tower, bowling until 1am, catching the last flight home with 30 people and a crew who handed out extra snacks. "I can't believe I just pulled off that weekend." A visit planned to Dad at Mt. Rainier. The crack dealers still at 5th and Bell. Still walking a different route home after 1am. Still at the Westin, still counting the ships.

The final post in the Wayback Machine's capture of the blog is dated February 6, 2005. Super Bowl Sunday. He has to work. He is sad about it — had wanted to go to the casino, drink beer, misbehave. Instead he will be in his ivory tower.

"If it was a 49er, or Seahawks game, well no way, I wouldn't even be there. Still, I would much rather be at the party."

And that is the last sentence. Not a conclusion, not a farewell — just a Sunday night in Seattle, a man who would rather be somewhere else, heading off to work.

The blog is still technically up at brooksgroves.blogspot.com. The Wayback Machine captured it one more time in February 2025 — twenty years later — and the last post was still February 6, 2005. No new entries. Just the page, still there, the way things on the internet stay there.

What came after — the PhD, or not. Exoplanetary atmospherics, or not. Whether he ever found that B-17 in the Olympic Mountains. Whether he made it to Namibia. Whether the Westin became five years and then something else — none of that is in this archive. The archive ends here.

What it leaves behind is this: nearly five years of the most honest, strange, alive writing from the edge of the millennium. From a city at the center of everything that was about to happen. From a person who paid attention and wrote it down.

That is enough.

The last entry in the main archive is dated June 1, 2002. Native American protesters outside the window on a Saturday morning. An earthquake swarm in Kashmir. Three ferrets. A new apartment with a view of Puget Sound. Yosemite plans with Zack for July. The journal ends there, mid-sentence in the life of a 32-year-old in downtown Seattle who had been writing online since July 31, 2000.

The Wayback Machine captured nothing between June 2002 and August 2004. Two years and two months of silence. What happened in between is not recorded here — but the arc of the journal makes some of it easy to imagine. The Yosemite trip probably happened. The triathlon season continued. The Westin kept going. The ferrets aged. Seattle changed, a little, and didn't, mostly.

The world changed too. The war in Afghanistan continued. Iraq began. The Department of Homeland Security was created. The economy slowly recovered. Seattle went on being Seattle — grey, caffeinated, opinionated, beautiful in July.

When the blog reappears in late August 2004 — now on Blogger, under the name "Collected Thoughts" — it is recognizably the same person. Still at the Westin, still watching ships from the window, still obsessed with the Olympics and rugby and Steinlager. But the format has shifted. The long 3am dispatches are gone. In their place: shorter posts, more links, news items, one-liners. The voice is still there but the camera has pulled back.

A few glimpses: new Merrell work shoes from REI. Ichiro chasing the all-time hits record — "at least in Queen Anne, I am a rather efficient swimmer." Hurricane Ivan on the scanner. A B-17 wreck from January 1952 in the Olympic Mountains, researched and marked for future expedition. Forks flying out of toilets during a massive flood at the Westin. Meeting a man who was involved with the Bathyscaphe Trieste — the vessel that dove to the deepest point on Earth. A professional wrestler on one TV, an ostrich documentary on another. "I think I made the right call."

And on September 11, 2004 — three years on — watching a storm roll in over Seattle while carrying his Gore-Tex jacket on a sunny morning, knowing it would come:

"It has been three years since the attacks, and I recall every single bit of it in super scary detail. Really, the world changed on that day, and frankly, I am still trying to figure it out."

One entry from September 1st hints at what had been building during the silence:

"I don't think I can be a complete person until I get my PhD from either UW or Cal. For the past few years I have been saving all my money to do this, and the time is near. I enjoy atmospheric physics and chemistry, and I figure, why not up the ante on exo-planetary atmospherics, in the exo-biological world?"

The blog continues through the fall and winter of 2004. The voice gets warmer, looser — less urgent, more comfortable. A trip to Las Vegas and Reno for the holidays. Area 51 on Christmas Eve, finding Chuck Clark at the Little A'Le'Inn. A Kia Amanti with heated seats on the drive back to Reno. Snow — five feet at Lake Tahoe, two feet in the front yard, the flights delayed.

Back in Seattle in January 2005: a 36-hour trip to San Francisco, hiking all over Chinatown and North Beach and Coit Tower, bowling until 1am, catching the last flight home with 30 people and a crew who handed out extra snacks. "I can't believe I just pulled off that weekend." A visit planned to Dad at Mt. Rainier. The crack dealers still at 5th and Bell. Still walking a different route home after 1am. Still at the Westin, still counting the ships.

The final post in the Wayback Machine's capture of the blog is dated February 6, 2005. Super Bowl Sunday. He has to work. He is sad about it — had wanted to go to the casino, drink beer, misbehave. Instead he will be in his ivory tower.

"If it was a 49er, or Seahawks game, well no way, I wouldn't even be there. Still, I would much rather be at the party."

And that is the last sentence. Not a conclusion, not a farewell — just a Sunday night in Seattle, a man who would rather be somewhere else, heading off to work.

The blog is still technically up at brooksgroves.blogspot.com. The Wayback Machine captured it one more time in February 2025 — twenty years later — and the last post was still February 6, 2005. No new entries. Just the page, still there, the way things on the internet stay there.

What came after — the PhD, or not. Exoplanetary atmospherics, or not. Whether he ever found that B-17 in the Olympic Mountains. Whether he made it to Namibia. Whether the Westin became five years and then something else — none of that is in this archive. The archive ends here.

What it leaves behind is this: nearly five years of the most honest, strange, alive writing from the edge of the millennium. From a city at the center of everything that was about to happen. From a person who paid attention and wrote it down.

That is enough.