Lot going on there.
Here’s the important message I was sharing:
Kids,
This is your
Dad when he
was 21.
Love,
DadRelated: At the time, I was tripping my balls off.
Also Related: here’s the same place today:
Flintstone car? Still available. Go nuts.
This whole “getting married” business has made me think a lot about “the future”. It’s one thing to know who you’ll be spending the rest of your life with, but what does that life look like? Are there kids? (There will probably hopefully be kids, maybe.) Where do you live and in what kind of home? Are there domesticated pets involved (again, probably/hopefully.) But the thing that trips me out the most is thinking that at some point, if kids are involved, and this Internet thing doesn’t implode, they’re probably going to be able to find a ton of bread crumbs back to photos and stories of the crazy shit that we used to do in our 20s. There are literally hundreds of photos of me on the Internet doing really inappropriate things. Our parents didn’t have these problems because they weren’t posting angsty screeds on LiveJournal (or, egads, DIARYLAND) when they were 20.
I mean, I guess I could just delete and expunge those things from the public record. But wasn’t the whole point of putting things on the Internet for them to remain viewable in perpetuity? These are the dusty handwritten journals that our parents might have kept that are probably lost forever or in a box marked “MISC” in a storage locker or in an attic. The Internet is now grandma’s attic, is what I’m saying, and I just don’t know if I will ever be ready to face my 10 year old 15 years from now when s/he walks up to me with their iPad18 showing me a picture of me passed out on a sofa with my friends drawing dongs on my face and asking, “WTF DAD?!”
