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On the peculiar grief of being born just early enough to remember what the world felt like when it was still slow, still local, and still yours.

The identity crisis of picking a screen name, and what sk8rboi_69@hotmail.com says about who you thought you were.

Nobody ever used it to measure anything, and everyone knew what it was really for.

Somewhere in a landfill there's a micro-cassette with your dad doing his best movie trailer voice, and it deserves to be in a museum.

The parasocial relationships we didn't have a word for yet.

A self-aware critique from inside the nostalgia industrial complex.