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| author | luxagraf <sng@luxagraf.net> | 2023-07-28 13:43:36 -0500 |
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| committer | luxagraf <sng@luxagraf.net> | 2023-07-28 13:43:36 -0500 |
| commit | a30c790edea652494e7481f6798047a3bc1fd4ea (patch) | |
| tree | b0936860abd6767716f56c68e305d8f5e0e38bd4 /bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2009/04 | |
| parent | 9a620cf42bf1fe6977e378bd834b41ff4a593dde (diff) | |
added a backup of old pages that are no longer live
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| -rw-r--r-- | bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2009/04/strangers-on-a-train.amp | 204 | ||||
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diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2009/04/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2009/04/index.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac2bf2e --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2009/04/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,104 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Luxagraf - Topografical Writings: Archive</title> + <meta charset="utf-8"> + <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta name="description" + content="Luxagraf: recording journeys around the world and just next door."> + <meta name="author" content="Scott Gilbertson"> + <!--[if IE]> + <script src="/js/html5css3ie.min.js"></script> + <![endif]--> + <link rel="alternate" + type="application/rss+xml" + title="Luxagraf RSS feed" + href="https://luxagraf.net/rss/"> + <link rel="stylesheet" + href="/media/screenv8.css" + media="screen"> + <!--[if IE]> + <link rel="stylesheet" + href="/media/css/ie.css" + media="screen"> + <![endif]--> + <link rel="shortcut icon" href="favicon.ico" type="image/x-icon"> + <link rel="manifest" href="manifest.json"> + <meta property="fb:pages" content="900822029969349" /> + +</head> +<body id="archive"> + <div class="wrapper" id="wrapper"> + <div class="header-wrapper"> + <header role="banner"> + <h1><a id="logo" href="/" title="home">Luxagraf</a></h1> + <h2>Walk Slowly</h2> + </header> + <nav role="navigation" class="bl"> + <ul> + <li id="laverdad"><a href="/jrnl/" title="What we've been up to lately">Journal</a></li> + <!--<li id="nota"><a href="/field-notes/" title="Quick notes and images from the road">Notes</a></li> + <li id="fotos"><a href="/photos/" title="Photos from travels around the world">Photos</a></li>i--> + <li id="maps"><a href="/map" title="Maps">Map</a></li> + <li id="about"><a href="/about" title="About Luxagraf">About</a></li> + <li id="etc" class="last"><a href="/projects/" title="the less visible portions of the iceberg">More</a></li> + </ul> + </nav> + </div> + <ul class="bl" id="breadcrumbs" itemscope itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/Breadcrumb"> + <li><a href="/" title="luxagraf homepage" itemprop="url"><span itemprop="title">Home</span></a> → </li> + <li><a href="/jrnl/" title="See all Journal Entries" itemprop="url"><span itemprop="title">Journal</span></a> →</li> + <li><a href="/jrnl/2009/">2009</a> →</li> + <li>April</li> + </ul> + <main role="main" id="writing-archive" class="archive"> + <h1> Archive: April 2009</h1> + <ul class="date-archive"> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2009/04/strangers-on-a-train" title="No Strangers on a Train">No Strangers on a Train</a> + <time datetime="2009-04-13T19:36:13-04:00">Apr 13, 2009</time> + </li> + </ul> + + + + <footer role="contentinfo"> + <nav class="bl"> + <ul> + <li><a href="/blogroll" title="Sites that inspire us">Blogroll</a></li> + <li><a href="/jrnl/feed.xml" title="RSS feed">Subscribe</a></li> + <li><a href="/contact/" title="contact luxagraf">Contact</a></li> + <li><a href="https://twitter.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="follow luxagraf on Twitter">Twitter</a></li> + <li><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Flickr">Flickr</a></li> + <li><a href="https://www.facebook.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Facebook">Facebook</a></li> + <li><a href="https://www.instagram.com/luxagraf/" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Instacrap">Instacrap</a></li> + </ul> + </nav> + <p id="license"> + © 2003-2018 + <span class="h-card"><a class="p-name u-url" href="https://luxagraf.net/">Scott Gilbertson</a><data class="p-nickname" value="luxagraf"></data><data class="p-locality" value="Athens"></data><data class="p-region" value="Georgia"></data><data class="p-country-name" value="United States"></data></span>, except photos, which are licensed under the Creative Commons (<a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/" title="read the Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 deed">details</a>). + </p> + </footer> + </div> + +<!-- Piwik --> +<script type="text/javascript"> +var _paq = _paq || []; 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It doesn't matter if it's a subway ride across town or the Trans-Siberian railway, count me in.</p> +<p><amp-img alt="The boxcar Children book cover" height="204" src="https://images.luxagraf.net//2009/boxcarcover.jpg" width="142"></amp-img>I blame the whole thing on the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0807508543?ie=UTF8&tag=librograf-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0807508543">The Boxcar Children</a><amp-img alt="" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=librograf-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0807508543" width="1"></amp-img>, certainly not the world I grew up in, where there were very few trains.<sup id="fnr-001"><a href="#fn-001">[1]</a></sup></p> +<p>Trains are almost totally unknown where I come from. If trains pass through Los Angeles, they don't do it anywhere near where I lived. When it came to traveling from LA there were two options -- get in the car or head to LAX.</p> +<p>And yet trains lurk in the background of most American myths, from Kerouac hopping freight cars in <cite>On the Road</cite> to the music of Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, Bob Dylan and countless others. Chances are, if something is hailed as "uniquely American," then there's a train in there somewhere.</p> +<p>So how does a culture end up with a mythology built around something most of us have never experienced in any way?</p> +<p>The answer lies more in what trains represent than their practical reality. Rail travel taps into a very primal part of the American imagination -- that we're all free. And by free I think we mean the idea that there is still some untapped thing out there that we can, at any moment, propel ourselves toward. </p> +<p>It's part of the belief that there is freedom in travel -- the way parallel tracks converge in the distance offers the promise of the infinite, toward which we are always running.</p> +<p><break></break></p> +<p>That's why the mythology of trains is tied up in that of nomadic wanderers. The train-riding hobos of old are the modern vagabonds' spiritual predecessors; travelers who, like the hobos of pop mythology, place more value on the freedom of movement than the accumulation of things (there's also the similarity in bathing habits, but hey, you have to take the bad with the good).</p> +<p>I didn't spend any real time on trains until I got to India, where I spent nearly all my time on trains.</p> +<p><amp-img alt="Train from Trang Thailand to Bangkok" height="222" src="https://images.luxagraf.net//2009/thailandtrain.jpg" width="165"></amp-img>My overwhelming memory of India is the Indian railway system, which is simultaneously the most mind-boggling complex thing I have encountered,<sup id="fnr-002"><a href="#fn-002">[2]</a></sup> and also the coolest, most convenient and downright fun way to travel.</p> +<p>My best memories of India are sitting on the steps of an Indian train car, feeling the rush of air, the thousand foreign smells, watching the scenery pass, from the red mud jungles of the south to the dry barren deserts of Rajasthan. In all I traveled nearly a thousand miles by train in India (and saw no less than four major bus wrecks from the comfort of my train car, which gave me additional motivation to stick to trains).</p> +<p>The train system is the life blood of India, not only is it the single largest employer in the world, it's how the country moves. </p> +<p>The vast majority of the Indians I met were fellow rail passengers. The secret is to always travel second class. First is too segregated, you don't meet anyone but army officers and fellow backpackers. Third class is standing room only and generally too crowded to move. Second class is just right.</p> +<p>In second class train cars I met Indians from all walks of life, from the cobbler's family that asked me to babysit their children and offered me the best samosas I've ever had, to the two teenage aspiring rappers who gave me a full day tour of New Delhi when we arrived. </p> +<p><amp-img alt="Train to Udiapur, Rajasthan, India" height="227" src="https://images.luxagraf.net//2009/indiatrain.jpg" width="184"></amp-img>Indian trains offer something I've rarely found in America -- organic community travel.</p> +<p>In the west especially, a community of travelers has become little more than businessmen drinking at the Holiday Inn Express bar, or backpackers smoking in some dingy flophouse, or worse, the online communities we mistake for genuine connections between people.<sup id="fnr-003"><a href="#fn-003">[3]</a></sup> </p> +<p>Trains have become one of the last real manifestations of our longing for something more -- some shared group travel experience that is almost totally lost in American culture.</p> +<p>I think in the end that's why we mythologize trains, because they harken back to an age of community travel, a real, tangible community of travelers, not just backpackers, but people from all walks of life, people traveling near and far together in a shared space that isn't locked down like an airplane and isn't isolated like a car; it's a shared travel experience and there are precious few of those left in our world.</p> +<ol class="footnote"> +<li id="fn-001"> +<p><span class="note1">1. I do remember once as a child taking the train from Santa Ana to San Juan Capistrano to see the swallows, or perhaps the monarch butterflies, that part is hazy, but the train ride I am certain of.</span><a class="footnoteBackLink" href="#fnr-001" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text.">↩</a></p> +</li> +<li id="fn-002"> +<p><span class="note1">2. The single best resource for deciphering train travel and the complexities of timetables is undoubtedly the wonderful <a href="http://www.seat61.com/">Seat 61 website</a>.</span><a class="footnoteBackLink" href="#fnr-002" title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text.">↩</a></p> +</li> +<li id="fn-003"> +<p><span class="note1">3. Old man internet joke: what's the difference between a 1998 BBS and Facebook? Ten years of rationalizing our isolation.</span><a class="footnoteBackLink" href="#fnr-003" title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text.">↩</a></p> +</li> +</ol> + </div> + </article> +</main> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2009/04/strangers-on-a-train.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2009/04/strangers-on-a-train.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c07a379 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2009/04/strangers-on-a-train.html @@ -0,0 +1,409 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>No Strangers On A Train - by Scott Gilbertson</title> + <meta charset="utf-8"> + <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta name="description" + content="Traveling by train is a more communal experience; travelers come together in ways that don't happen on planes, buses or cars. 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It doesn’t matter if it’s a subway ride across town or the Trans-Siberian railway, count me in.</p> +<p><img alt="The boxcar Children book cover" class="postpic" src="https://images.luxagraf.net//2009/boxcarcover.jpg"/>, certainly not the world I grew up in, where there were very few trains.<sup id="fnr-001"><a href="#fn-001">[1]</a></sup></p> +<p>Trains are almost totally unknown where I come from. If trains pass through Los Angeles, they don’t do it anywhere near where I lived. When it came to traveling from LA there were two options — get in the car or head to LAX.</p> +<p>And yet trains lurk in the background of most American myths, from Kerouac hopping freight cars in <cite>On the Road</cite> to the music of Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, Bob Dylan and countless others. Chances are, if something is hailed as “uniquely American,” then there’s a train in there somewhere.</p> +<p>So how does a culture end up with a mythology built around something most of us have never experienced in any way?</p> +<p>The answer lies more in what trains represent than their practical reality. Rail travel taps into a very primal part of the American imagination — that we’re all free. And by free I think we mean the idea that there is still some untapped thing out there that we can, at any moment, propel ourselves toward. </p> +<p>It’s part of the belief that there is freedom in travel — the way parallel tracks converge in the distance offers the promise of the infinite, toward which we are always running.</p> +<p><break></p> +<p>That’s why the mythology of trains is tied up in that of nomadic wanderers. The train-riding hobos of old are the modern vagabonds’ spiritual predecessors; travelers who, like the hobos of pop mythology, place more value on the freedom of movement than the accumulation of things (there’s also the similarity in bathing habits, but hey, you have to take the bad with the good).</p> +<p>I didn’t spend any real time on trains until I got to India, where I spent nearly all my time on trains.</p> +<p><img alt="Train from Trang Thailand to Bangkok" class="postpicright" src="https://images.luxagraf.net//2009/thailandtrain.jpg"/>My overwhelming memory of India is the Indian railway system, which is simultaneously the most mind-boggling complex thing I have encountered,<sup id="fnr-002"><a href="#fn-002">[2]</a></sup> and also the coolest, most convenient and downright fun way to travel.</p> +<p>My best memories of India are sitting on the steps of an Indian train car, feeling the rush of air, the thousand foreign smells, watching the scenery pass, from the red mud jungles of the south to the dry barren deserts of Rajasthan. In all I traveled nearly a thousand miles by train in India (and saw no less than four major bus wrecks from the comfort of my train car, which gave me additional motivation to stick to trains).</p> +<p>The train system is the life blood of India, not only is it the single largest employer in the world, it’s how the country moves. </p> +<p>The vast majority of the Indians I met were fellow rail passengers. The secret is to always travel second class. First is too segregated, you don’t meet anyone but army officers and fellow backpackers. Third class is standing room only and generally too crowded to move. Second class is just right.</p> +<p>In second class train cars I met Indians from all walks of life, from the cobbler’s family that asked me to babysit their children and offered me the best samosas I’ve ever had, to the two teenage aspiring rappers who gave me a full day tour of New Delhi when we arrived. </p> +<p><img alt="Train to Udiapur, Rajasthan, India" class="postpic" src="https://images.luxagraf.net//2009/indiatrain.jpg"/>Indian trains offer something I’ve rarely found in America — organic community travel.</p> +<p>In the west especially, a community of travelers has become little more than businessmen drinking at the Holiday Inn Express bar, or backpackers smoking in some dingy flophouse, or worse, the online communities we mistake for genuine connections between people.<sup id="fnr-003"><a href="#fn-003">[3]</a></sup> </p> +<p>Trains have become one of the last real manifestations of our longing for something more — some shared group travel experience that is almost totally lost in American culture.</p> +<p>I think in the end that’s why we mythologize trains, because they harken back to an age of community travel, a real, tangible community of travelers, not just backpackers, but people from all walks of life, people traveling near and far together in a shared space that isn’t locked down like an airplane and isn’t isolated like a car; it’s a shared travel experience and there are precious few of those left in our world.</p> +<ol class="footnote"> +<li id="fn-001"> +<p><span class="note1">1. I do remember once as a child taking the train from Santa Ana to San Juan Capistrano to see the swallows, or perhaps the monarch butterflies, that part is hazy, but the train ride I am certain of.</span><a href="#fnr-001" class="footnoteBackLink" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text.">↩</a></p> +</li> +<li id="fn-002"> +<p><span class="note1">2. The single best resource for deciphering train travel and the complexities of timetables is undoubtedly the wonderful <a href="http://www.seat61.com/">Seat 61 website</a>.</span><a href="#fnr-002" class="footnoteBackLink" title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text.">↩</a></p> +</li> +<li id="fn-003"> +<p><span class="note1">3. Old man internet joke: what’s the difference between a 1998 BBS and Facebook? Ten years of rationalizing our isolation.</span><a href="#fnr-003" class="footnoteBackLink" title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text.">↩</a></p> +</li> +</ol> + </div> + <div class="entry-footer"> + <aside id="wildlife"> + <h3>Fauna and Flora</h3> + + <ul> + + <li class="grouper">Birds<ul> + + <li>American Robin </li> + + <li>Blue Jay </li> + + <li>Brown-headed Cowbird </li> + + <li><a href="/dialogues/brown-thrasher">Brown Thrasher</a> </li> + + <li>Canada Goose </li> + + <li>Carolina Chickadee </li> + + <li>Chipping Sparrow </li> + + <li>Downy Woodpecker </li> + + <li>Eastern Bluebird </li> + + <li>Eastern Towhee </li> + + <li>Gray Catbird </li> + + <li>Great Blue Heron </li> + + <li>Hooded Warbler </li> + + <li><a href="/dialogues/northern-cardinal">Northern Cardinal</a> </li> + + <li><a href="/dialogues/northern-mockingbird">Northern Mockingbird</a> </li> + + <li>Red-bellied Woodpecker </li> + + <li><a href="/dialogues/summer-tanager">Summer Tanager</a> </li> + + <li>Tufted Titmouse </li> + + <li>Wood Duck </li> + + <li>Yellow-rumped Warbler </li> + </ul> + </ul> + </aside> + + + </div> + </article> + + + <div class="nav-wrapper"> + <nav id="page-navigation" > + <ul> + <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2008/12/leonardo-da-vinci-and-codex-bunnies" rel="prev" title=" Leonardo Da Vinci and the Codex on Bunnies">Leonardo Da Vinci and the Codex on Bunnies</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2009/05/how-to-get-your-butt-and-travel-world" rel="next" title=" How to Get Off Your Butt and Travel the World">How to Get Off Your Butt and Travel the World</a> + </li> + </ul> + </nav> + </div> + + + + + + +<div class="comment--form--wrapper "> + +<div class="comment--form--header"> + <p class="hed">Thoughts?</p> + <p class="subhed">Please leave a reply:</p> +</div> +<form action="/comments/post/" method="post" class="comment--form"> + +<input type="hidden" name="rder" value="" /> + + + <input type="hidden" name="content_type" value="jrnl.entry" id="id_content_type"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="object_pk" value="96" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833467" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="90031877643f213e4d14befdd350d0c51b1202d4" id="id_security_hash"> + + + + <fieldset > + <label for="id_name">Name:</label> + <input type="text" name="name" maxlength="50" required id="id_name"> + </fieldset> + + + + <fieldset > + <label for="id_email">Email address:</label> + <input type="email" name="email" required id="id_email"> + </fieldset> + + + + <fieldset > + <label for="id_url">URL:</label> + <input type="url" name="url" id="id_url"> + </fieldset> + + + + <fieldset > + <label for="id_comment">Comment:</label> + <div class="textarea-rounded"><textarea name="comment" cols="40" rows="10" maxlength="3000" required id="id_comment"> +</textarea></div> + </fieldset> + + + + <fieldset style="display:none;"> + <label for="id_honeypot">If you enter anything in this field your comment will be treated as spam:</label> + <input type="text" name="honeypot" id="id_honeypot"> + </fieldset> + + + <div class="submit"> + <input type="submit" name="post" class="submit-post btn" value="Post" /> + <input type="submit" name="preview" class="submit-preview btn" value="Preview" /> + </div> +</form> +<p style="font-size: 95%;"><strong>All comments are moderated</strong>, so you won’t see it right away. 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It doesn't matter if it's a subway ride across town or the Trans-Siberian railway, count me in.
+
+<img src="[[base_url]]/2009/boxcarcover.jpg" alt="The boxcar Children book cover" class="postpic" />I blame the whole thing on the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0807508543?ie=UTF8&tag=librograf-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0807508543">The Boxcar Children</a><img src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=librograf-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0807508543" width="1" height="1" border="0" alt="" style="border:none !important; margin:0px !important;" />, certainly not the world I grew up in, where there were very few trains.<sup id="fnr-001"><a href="#fn-001">[1]</a></sup>
+
+Trains are almost totally unknown where I come from. If trains pass through Los Angeles, they don't do it anywhere near where I lived. When it came to traveling from LA there were two options -- get in the car or head to LAX.
+
+And yet trains lurk in the background of most American myths, from Kerouac hopping freight cars in <cite>On the Road</cite> to the music of Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, Bob Dylan and countless others. Chances are, if something is hailed as "uniquely American," then there's a train in there somewhere.
+
+So how does a culture end up with a mythology built around something most of us have never experienced in any way?
+
+The answer lies more in what trains represent than their practical reality. Rail travel taps into a very primal part of the American imagination -- that we're all free. And by free I think we mean the idea that there is still some untapped thing out there that we can, at any moment, propel ourselves toward.
+
+It's part of the belief that there is freedom in travel -- the way parallel tracks converge in the distance offers the promise of the infinite, toward which we are always running.
+
+<break>
+
+That's why the mythology of trains is tied up in that of nomadic wanderers. The train-riding hobos of old are the modern vagabonds' spiritual predecessors; travelers who, like the hobos of pop mythology, place more value on the freedom of movement than the accumulation of things (there's also the similarity in bathing habits, but hey, you have to take the bad with the good).
+
+
+
+I didn't spend any real time on trains until I got to India, where I spent nearly all my time on trains.
+
+<img src="[[base_url]]/2009/thailandtrain.jpg" alt="Train from Trang Thailand to Bangkok" class="postpicright" />My overwhelming memory of India is the Indian railway system, which is simultaneously the most mind-boggling complex thing I have encountered,<sup id="fnr-002"><a href="#fn-002">[2]</a></sup> and also the coolest, most convenient and downright fun way to travel.
+
+My best memories of India are sitting on the steps of an Indian train car, feeling the rush of air, the thousand foreign smells, watching the scenery pass, from the red mud jungles of the south to the dry barren deserts of Rajasthan. In all I traveled nearly a thousand miles by train in India (and saw no less than four major bus wrecks from the comfort of my train car, which gave me additional motivation to stick to trains).
+
+The train system is the life blood of India, not only is it the single largest employer in the world, it's how the country moves.
+
+The vast majority of the Indians I met were fellow rail passengers. The secret is to always travel second class. First is too segregated, you don't meet anyone but army officers and fellow backpackers. Third class is standing room only and generally too crowded to move. Second class is just right.
+
+In second class train cars I met Indians from all walks of life, from the cobbler's family that asked me to babysit their children and offered me the best samosas I've ever had, to the two teenage aspiring rappers who gave me a full day tour of New Delhi when we arrived.
+
+<img src="[[base_url]]/2009/indiatrain.jpg" alt="Train to Udiapur, Rajasthan, India" class="postpic" />Indian trains offer something I've rarely found in America -- organic community travel.
+
+In the west especially, a community of travelers has become little more than businessmen drinking at the Holiday Inn Express bar, or backpackers smoking in some dingy flophouse, or worse, the online communities we mistake for genuine connections between people.<sup id="fnr-003"><a href="#fn-003">[3]</a></sup>
+
+Trains have become one of the last real manifestations of our longing for something more -- some shared group travel experience that is almost totally lost in American culture.
+
+I think in the end that's why we mythologize trains, because they harken back to an age of community travel, a real, tangible community of travelers, not just backpackers, but people from all walks of life, people traveling near and far together in a shared space that isn't locked down like an airplane and isn't isolated like a car; it's a shared travel experience and there are precious few of those left in our world.
+
+
+<ol class="footnote">
+<li id="fn-001">
+<p><span class="note1">1. I do remember once as a child taking the train from Santa Ana to San Juan Capistrano to see the swallows, or perhaps the monarch butterflies, that part is hazy, but the train ride I am certain of.</span><a href="#fnr-001" class="footnoteBackLink" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text.">↩</a></p>
+</li>
+<li id="fn-002">
+<p><span class="note1">2. The single best resource for deciphering train travel and the complexities of timetables is undoubtedly the wonderful <a href="http://www.seat61.com/">Seat 61 website</a>.</span><a href="#fnr-002" class="footnoteBackLink" title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text.">↩</a></p>
+</li>
+<li id="fn-003">
+<p><span class="note1">3. Old man internet joke: what's the difference between a 1998 BBS and Facebook? Ten years of rationalizing our isolation.</span><a href="#fnr-003" class="footnoteBackLink" title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text.">↩</a></p>
+</li>
+</ol>
+ |