An Ode to the 80s the last true age of American style

I was born in the 80s but grew up in the throwback of the 90s. The music of the 80s engained in my mind and films burned into lenses of my memories.

I prefer aviators for Saturdays and Prince songs on rainy days.

I feel out of time occasionally. My body stays 16 my mind takes quantum leaps through time. My past is puzzling mixture to me. My speech.

Fuck. My speech game is a mixed bag of current timeline slangs, 80s rifts and a consent stream of mother fucking rhetorical land mines.

When I say I am a American Highlander it’s the truth of my mindset and physical conditioning.

I find my mind drifting again even as I write this blog post to the young man sitting in his room staring up at his model solar system and hearing the conversations that are on repeat for the last twenty years outside his window. Two old men stuck in time while the young man longs to escape from the trailor park. He finds his mind has only one escape. The starfighter arcade game at the corner store.

Damn. I sound like an old fuck but still I feel 16. I wonder about this some times.

Warm Regards,



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