Don’t bury me…

They are transcending their traditional boundaries, having come to conclusions about not only the concept of “self” (awareness) but also of self-identification. If anything, attempting to resolve such an existential crisis (in Neuromancer) appears to be more in line of the pattern of behavior that one might find in conventional literature, a path that a HUMAN protagonist would take.

But I finally got it. The ultimate pinnacle of cool back in those days, besides those retarded-looking sneakers that pumped air into bladders around your ankles to make breaking them a little bit easier when attempting to mimic Michael Jordan (if you’re younger than 19 that name might not mean anything, so just ignore the feeling of being left out of the loop and continue), were backpacks. Were they suffiently pocket-adorned? Were the straps too wide? What was on it?


About Costa

I'm a writer, teacher, baseball fan, old punk, and avid reader.
This entry was posted in blogging, childhood memories, random. Bookmark the permalink.

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