The Ends of Innocence

During my junior year of college, I lived in a house full of ambitious young men. We were not Econ majors, however. Not doctors nor lawyers nor titans of industry in training. We were artists and writers and musicians and intellectuals. We spent a lot of time at used book and record stores. One of us carried a copy of Derrida’s Of Grammatology around like a bible. You get the idea. These were the years of Y2K rapture-tripping, before 9/11 shattered the world—the forecasted apocalypse that never came to pass, as opposed to the actual one we didn’t see coming. I want to say that these were innocent years, that there was an innocence to proto-internet life. For it has often felt like the world in which I went to college is not the world I’ve lived in ever since. 

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