1995

It was a special year for me.  Special only because the craziness that ensued that year.  It started my second semester of college.  I was already an IRC addict and needed to jack in several times a day.  And I credit the IRC with giving me the friends I still have to this day.  To those of you who frown upon internet culture, all I can say is, you just don’t understand.  Perhaps you never will.  At any rate, there were five guys with whom I grew very tight, and the party began.

We hit the tri-state area clubs with an unforgiveable force, and as far as club culture is concerned, we “ruled”.  We were clubkids, freaks, misguided youth.  We drank, we danced, and eventually, our network extended substantially.  Mine especially.  You see, as the years wore on, things started to change within the group.  As with any group of people who spend far too much time together, drama ensued, friendships were strained, and the tension began to show, and grow.

Some of my friends got married, had kids, got divorced, bought houses, landed careers, yet my life stood suspended like a faulty VHS cassette playing the same loop over and over until the power was cut off.  You see, in November of that first year of our commune, I had decided to join the military, and to this very day, I have trouble coming up with a proper reason for doing so.  It was as if I wanted to contradict myself in such a way as to destroy myself.  For most intents and purposes, I achieved that goal.  I had for a number of years lost my mind.

The culture shock was far too much for this sensitive soul to handle, and when the letters and phonecalls from home proved to be insufficient, I turned to the chaos of my generation’s counter culture.  Where ever I was shipped, I found a place of “refuge”, which were more like dens of debauchery, broken promises, and false contentment.  I kept a journal of my travels, and from time to time I reread my entries and laugh maniacally at the stupidity found within.

When my time in the military expired, I returned home expecting something different than what I had left.  Such was not the case.  Instead, I returned to the same home, the same people, the same everything, only a few years older.  As lost as I had been before deciding to sign away my disillusioned sense of freedom, I was yet again back to square one.  Seedier connections beckoned my company, and I obliged.  The party continued.

For most of the following decade, I reinstated my place in The Network, created connections with other networks across the globe, and tried my best to fill a void.  I fooled myself into thinking such was possible.  Today, I’m not so easily convinced, but with age comes patience, so I’m giving the possibility a shot.  Yes, I know I contradict myself often.  I can’t help it.

1995.  It’s on my mind because tonight I’m feeling… something.  I’ve had a very strange, introspective 30-something hours.  My brain feels weird, and beckons for rest, but I can’t sleep. 

So what should I do about it?  Is there anything I can do about it?  What the fuck is it anyway?

I don’t know either.  But later on tonight, I’m going to try my best to find out the only way I know how.  (That’s not true.  It isn’t the only way.  It’s just the way I feel like doing it tonight.)

Kind of like it was 1995.

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