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Size of Disenchantment


“sighs of disenchantment that preceded the most tenacious nostalgia”                    –GGM, One Hundred Years of Solitude


I live with an unhealthy nostalgia. When I hear that people were born in the 1920s I say you lucky bastards and, if they are famous, immediately look up their life story. I was born in 1984, a horrible year—famous, but horrible still.

I heard two men outside my window today who sounded like they were preparing for a mugging. One said:

Phone. Wallet. Drugs.

Some mumbling. Then:

Phone. Wallet. Drugs.

Silence, in which I walked over to the window, which was closed, to hear better.

No dude, you’re not getting it. You’re not saying it right.

My friends don’t like to ask questions. How can you be a live person and not want to ask all sorts of questions? They feel fine listening to others and laughing or not laughing, and then speaking briefly and being overall satisfied. But no questions?

They get all of the information they need.

I like to keep moving. Physically moving. As in from country to country or place to place. This is movement of a different type from the electronically-aided, which is very fast. Regular movement feels like movement but it is slow.

I have just moved to another city.

I call someone about a desk.

“Oh, that one? Oh, that’s been sold. I thought I’d deleted the posting.”

“That’s ok, th—”

“That was taken in about fifteen minutes. Oh, it was barely here at all. I thought I deleted the posting. I got around twenty calls in the first ten minutes.”

“That’s fine, tha—”

“I’m sorry, I thought I deleted it. It went real fast. When did you look at the posting?” she asks, incredulous that I had not been among the first two hundred callers.

I don’t feel like prolonging the conversation but what else can I do when asked a question?


“Hmm, yesterday. They must have forgotten to take it down.”

Poor thing. The little guy was posted there all night long, all alone.

“Yup, a fine desk. It went real fast.”

“That’s fine. Thanks anyway.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.”


I don’t own a tv. I look online each day to find the things I might’ve missed. One of them was this.


From → What's Ours

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