this entry dedicated to the memory of William Barnhill
An old lady who was in front of me at the grocery store just apologized to me (for taking a long time arguing over the price of halloween candy) by saying to me, "sorry, young lady". I'm not sure if she missed the two days of stubble, or just assumed that 'long hair in ponytail' meant 'female', but that certainly helped her fulfill all the the Old Lady in the Supermarket stereotypes[0].
I wonder what my generations old-person stereotypes are going to be like. Will the kids in 2050 be snickering at me for complaining about the mandatory thumb-in-the-eye I'll need to get when I buy my soup at the grocery store? Will the newfangled brain-scanning credit devices confuse me? Will my hoodie be considered laughably old-fashioned? God, I need to develop some terminal illness, and fast.
I remember my grandmother, in one her more or less lucid moments[1], telling me how she believed that in thousands of years our civilization would be buried under sand, waiting to be excavated by future archaeologists (I'm not sure where the sand was supposed to come from). Still, a valid point -- I wonder if in 20,000 years our culture and society will be viewed in the same way as we view Mesopatmia and Ur -- as quaint primitive societies ruled by long-forgotten gods. One thing is for certain -- in a thousand years, "devin tuffy" won't even be a memory. I find that frightening, but strangely comforting.
Was reading one of Spalding Gray's books the other night, and in the introduction he wrote that his goal was to weave a lifelong epitaph for himself, but do it orally[2] because to write it down meant he had hope for the future. There was a man who really understood the world.
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I'm sleep deprived and overly stressed from work. Please excuse the rambling.
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Mikey and Lindsay are both in town this week. It's really really great to see them.
[0] She also couldn't work the credit card reader.
[1] Sometimes it was hard to tell one from the other.
[2] I realize the irony of reading that statement.
I wonder what my generations old-person stereotypes are going to be like. Will the kids in 2050 be snickering at me for complaining about the mandatory thumb-in-the-eye I'll need to get when I buy my soup at the grocery store? Will the newfangled brain-scanning credit devices confuse me? Will my hoodie be considered laughably old-fashioned? God, I need to develop some terminal illness, and fast.
I remember my grandmother, in one her more or less lucid moments[1], telling me how she believed that in thousands of years our civilization would be buried under sand, waiting to be excavated by future archaeologists (I'm not sure where the sand was supposed to come from). Still, a valid point -- I wonder if in 20,000 years our culture and society will be viewed in the same way as we view Mesopatmia and Ur -- as quaint primitive societies ruled by long-forgotten gods. One thing is for certain -- in a thousand years, "devin tuffy" won't even be a memory. I find that frightening, but strangely comforting.
Was reading one of Spalding Gray's books the other night, and in the introduction he wrote that his goal was to weave a lifelong epitaph for himself, but do it orally[2] because to write it down meant he had hope for the future. There was a man who really understood the world.
--
I'm sleep deprived and overly stressed from work. Please excuse the rambling.
--
Mikey and Lindsay are both in town this week. It's really really great to see them.
[0] She also couldn't work the credit card reader.
[1] Sometimes it was hard to tell one from the other.
[2] I realize the irony of reading that statement.