1983, Bob Dylan I Should Be
That sullen looking 13-year-old is none other than yours truly. I dug it up to post at the message board of my high school class reunion page. Why I bothered to do so is still something I am trying to understand. Why do I want to communicate with those people? Not counting the folks I have kept in touch with over the years, I can name maybe five people out of the whole class who hold any interest to me. The rest are the mediocre Republican assholes I expected them to become, thereby disappointing my progressive faith in human self-reflecting consciousness yet renewing my marxian view of class-based ideological determinants. This dissonance is likely behind the glum look on that adolescent face you see up there. I didn’t have the jargon then, but I was already pretty aware of how my classmates were starting to conform to roles pre-established by social expectations. I wrote scads of bad poetry about it.
Not that it’s a long-standing chip on my shoulder or nuthin’.