The Minutemen, backstage at the Whisky, Los Angeles, photo by Glen E. Friedman circa 1981
As I grew into writing professionally, mostly, mothering amateurly—all my mind was taken with those things. I barely remember life before most days. Took the kids to a playground with Uncle JR, that back a decade ago we used to skate, poorly, and talk about Mobb Deep and big plans and our bad haircuts would waft in the breeze. Nostalgia has become such a stasis; I don’t like looking back. Sometimes I thought I should up and delete all of this as a way of reconciling who I am with who I have been. Weird shame of what I put up on this internet like a hangover into adult life. Confronting what I regret. Confronting what years of hard freelance hustle have done to or for my writing. But instead, I have to—choose to—come back and comb and say it’s worth something. It’s better and worse than I thought. I had a lot I wanted to prove to the world then, I was eager to dazzle and high on confidence that I could. Some of my best work is here and often I hardly recognize the girl that wrote it. —
Jessica Hopper on having a web archive, as one gets older
tinyluckygenius aka the Unicorn’s tear: “YOU SHOULD MAKE A BOOK”
(Source: rockanory, via rickwebb)
There never was and never will be a shortage of CHEMEX Filterpaper.