"Nineteen is not the age of reason" - Old '97s
"It was 20 years ago, almost to the day, that I began keeping a diary. A friend and I had been hitchhiking from Oregon to Vancouver when, for no reason whatsoever, I scribbled the day's events onto the back of a restaurant place mat, not knowing that the activity would become obsessive. My earliest diaries are stored away in my father's basement, and I can't bear to read them. Entries are introduced with Joni Mitchell quotes and melodramatic sob stories that end with lines such as, "I know now that I must walk alone!!!" What makes these diaries extra embarrassing is the fact that I hadn't even started drinking yet. I can't blame the writing on drugs or alcohol--that was me talking. I'd like to know what I ate when I was 19 years old. How much did it cost for a pound of chicken or a pack of cigarettes? What did I carry in my wallet, and who did I talk to on the telephone? My earliest diaries tell me none of these things. They tell me not who I was, but who I wanted to be. That person wore a beret and longed to ride a tandem bicycle with Laura Nyro. He wanted to arrive at parties on the back of a camel and sketch the guests, capturing the look of wonder on their faces as they admired his quiet, unassuming celebrity. I've been tempted to destroy those early diaries, but the very urge reminds me that I really haven't changed all that much." - David Sedaris