My friend Mike, whom I've known for more than forty years ( ...! ), is a history buff, and a dedicated nostalgic when it comes to shared memories and our personal histories. I can always count on Mike, whenever we have any occasion to catch up (which is not nearly as often or enough as it should be), to remind me of some tidbit from not only our childhoods growing up together, but also my own experiential Akasha ... which should never have become wiped away in the first place.
I thought of Mike the other day when I 'stumbledupon' something I forgot even existed: "(Mostly) Unpublished writings by New York City author, poseur, poet and flâneur" ... JgNYC.
If you click there, you will enter a world of gamely attempted, lame stits and farts, before Twitter or Facebook ... before even LinkedIn! My first post, an early slice of Slice / Life, dated April 28th, 2003 ... Apparently, LinkedIn launched that May.
I thought of Mike the other day when I 'stumbledupon' something I forgot even existed: "(Mostly) Unpublished writings by New York City author, poseur, poet and flâneur" ... JgNYC.
If you click there, you will enter a world of gamely attempted, lame stits and farts, before Twitter or Facebook ... before even LinkedIn! My first post, an early slice of Slice / Life, dated April 28th, 2003 ... Apparently, LinkedIn launched that May.
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| first "Contact" |
And then I found, resurfacing from the bowels of the deep web, one of the first online formats which granted me publication - an until now MIA zine called Strawberry Press ... which, with Underground Voices and Thieves Jargon, cut my teeth;
then, circling back to my giant, small steps into the early, first "blogosphere" -- that abandoned single page of posts on jglovsky.blogspot.com -- I became further reminded that I was, and still am (if I can find the password!!), a proud member of Zoetrope ("one of the first uses of social networking on the internet") ... a virtual writers' workshop sponsored by All-Story.
Who knew?? Who could remember any of this, when work and life demanded attention and the past four years, especially, have been starting over?
While starting to weep now, I'm actually happy: to have come across these footprints from a more recent past ... clinging as I tend to, to my longer ago, Gen X sense of self, and the spirit that still haunts those streets and footsteps ...
