I stumbled upon a post from 2015 on a blog, Chiller, that I’ve read and featured in the past. I remember the writing here to be always compelling, intriguing, bold. But anyway, this bit popped out at me, and now I can’t stop thinking about it:
I let go of the stories, too tired to hold them any more, and now most of them are gone. I don’t have a map of myself any more, there is just this moment. I exist, persistently.
Inside Google Maps, there’s a past, but not all the past. There’s a future, but not all the future. There’s no present to speak of; no matter how recent the image, it will never be now. And yet the gaps heal themselves, and hide themselves. If you’re looking in New York, San Francisco, London, even Berlin where it will always be 2008, you are likely to find your destination. If its past is patchy, if its present is lost, will you notice? Will you care?
— Jess Zimmerman, “A Life in Google Maps”
I really love this Catapult essay on Google Maps, memory, place, and life’s ghosts.
I used to write a lot of Yelp reviews, nearly 10 years ago. Some of them are funny. Most of them make me cringe. I was either too cool, or tried too hard, or suffered from cut-and-paste copy writing syndrome.
Here are a few. They are also quite telling — each one a tiny bit of memoir.
1337 Mission St, San Francisco
Free photobooth. Crowded Dirty Bird parties on Friday nights. It’s easy to get loaded here.
Dirty Bird Party in the Park
25th and Fulton, San Francisco
Dirty tech house beats, interesting trips to the port-a-potty, liquor brown bagging, watching little dogs and their gay owners frolic on the lawn, dancing, dancing, dancing.
Oh, and dancing.
Been doing this shit for years and years and years. Never too old for it.
Continue reading “Old Yelp reviews: the jaded ex-raver edition”