I’ve spent part of last night going through a diary I started (note: started – I rarely finished a diary) in 1990. It’s incredible to re-read and re-discover how much of an idiot I was then. The things I cared about, the things I talked with my peers about and, more importantly, the way we talked about them, was ridiculously laughable. In fact I did laugh out loud. Several times. So did my wife, who put up with listening to a few entries before breaking down into a fit of laughter which brought her to her knees.
Man, was I confused and fucked up in those days.

Share this post

Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin
Share on pinterest
Share on print
Share on email