Instead of writing this morning (which began with staring at two paragraphs written three weeks ago), the decision was made without my consent to diddle around Wikipedia.
It began with “1995” which is bizarre enough, and ended with Evil Angels, a 1998 Australian film starring Meryl Streep.
There were several pages in between, from a “list of people who have mysteriously disappeared” to “dingoes,” the two of which are related for obvious reasons.
My first click off of “1995” was “Richey Edwards” (if you haven’t noticed, I’m not including the links because I am trying to save you from internet depression), one of the disappeared who I have never heard of before and for some reason after reading his entry decided I had to listen to his music. The Manic Street Preachers began in 1991, and I’m sure if I had heard them in the nineties I might have cared. As it is, I can’t get myself to focus on one song for more than thirty seconds.
“A married man fucks a catholic and his wife dies without him knowing.” Is that really the lyric that I just heard? I am desperately trying to avoid looking this up on the internet.
The real question is how did I end up on Wikipedia in the first place? In order to avoid staring at the same two paragraphs without writing a third I needed a reason to escape. Research. The story will take place in…roll the dice/spin the wheel/rock paper scissors…1995. Sure.
That was a good year.
Prison riot in Algeria. Selena was murdered. In April, Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols set off a bomb at a federal building in Oklahoma, proving once and for all that not all terrorists are Muslims.
O.J. is found “not guilty.” A woman named Jean becomes the first human to reach the age of 120 (excepting Adam, Seth, Lamech, Arphaxad, Salah, Abraham, et al., of course).
And on December 31st of that year, the last Calvin and Hobbes strip was published.
Out of all the tragedies of that year (and I know I missed at least two hundred), the conclusion of Calvin and Hobbes (with Windows 95 being a close second), was the greatest tragedy of them all.
A constant companion of my childhood, Calvin and Hobbes books littered the floor of my room, torn, bent pages worn from use, hundreds of tiny pieces of paper used as improvised bookmarks that escaped with each turn of the page. I have made several Transmogrifiers (physical and otherwise) in my day, thanks to the fabulous Mr. Bill Waterson. Yes, 1995 was a sad year.
After this, I think I went on a “thumbs-up” Facebook rampage but I can’t really remember, as my brain fogged up with internet.
2 thoughts on “1995”
I'm going to keep reading until I see an uplifting writing.
Good luck, Anonymous! I do hope you are real and not a bot (seems likely as you did not provide a link to anything spammy). If you are unable to find any posts suitable to your tastes, might I suggest some daytime television?