In the 1980 film Somewhere in Time, Christopher Reeve (of Superman fame) plays a man who falls in love with a portrait of a young woman long dead. His obsession with her photo leads him to discard everything that reminds him of the seventies, and following a rather intense night of self-hypnosis, he travels back to the early turn of the century, where he meets the object of his affection, now a young, beautiful Jane Seymour.
This got me thinking about a journey I would like to take—a journey to the days before Apple, Twitter, and TikTok conspired to turn us into phone-hugging zombies, before Amazon monopolized all book sales, before Disney bought up all the stories we grew up loving. I long for a simpler time, when Flat Earthers and anti-vaxxers were a joke, and the only Nazis you saw were getting their faces punched in by the good guys in TV and movies. More than anything, as a lifelong, struggling author, I wish to live in a world where quality storytelling matters more than how many followers you have on YouTube.
Taking a cue from Huey Lewis and the News, I plan to go Back in Tiey-yime, to revisit 1985, when I was ten and Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Back to the Future, Ghostbusters, and Beetlejuice thrilled and delighted us from our theater seats without any pesky YouTubers to complain about why everything we enjoy is “problematic,” when Mario Bros. and Zelda graced our boxy CR TVs, and Dungeons & Dragons was still being published by basement-dwelling nerds who lived and breathed all things sword and sorcery. Not to fret, I am not about to check myself into a padded room by attempting to trick my mind into believing it really *is* the 80s (fun as that would be); but there are other, saner ways to go about it.
No doubt, this happens to every generation. Guys and gals in their 50s (I am 49) feel the world has gone off the rails, sometimes not even recognizing society anymore, and they begin to pine for the days of their youth. Even Socrates, I am sure, missed the good ol’ 460s (BC). Still, when my high schooler expresses a yearning for the decade I grew up in, when she laments the invention of social media and asks me to buy her a flip phone for Christmas (we always loved our Nintendos and all the cool stuff our parents didn’t understand) I am forced to wonder whether, perhaps, my generation might actually have been better.
Years ago, I interviewed my future self by writing out a series of questions to be answered by myself five years later. In a similar vein, I am planning to live for one month, starting in November, as if it were 1985, by excising myself of all of the modern technologies that, I feel, have made our lives worse. This means no Internet. No social media. Nobody on YouTube complaining about the latest Marvel show or D&D scandal or whatever these folks are convinced we should be worried about today. No false or misleading politics. No more hacks, earning thousands of views, explaining how to become a great writer when they have yet to prove it themselves. NO AI! I’ll still have music, movies, video games, and books! Heck, I might even go outdoors for a change, and Mark Zuckerburg won’t earn a penny from it.
By removing myself from the HIVE MIND that has become our Internet-driven world, I hope to liberate myself, to find tranquility and focus, to read and write more. When it’s all over in December, I’ll let you guys know how it went and whether I’ll be returning for a more extended stay.
In the meantime, I leave you with my latest podcast, wherein I review David Grann’s The Wager, a remarkable tale of maritime disaster, hardship, and survival, proving that history is often stranger and more gripping than fiction. A brisk read at 250 pages, Grann’s simple account strips so much of the pretense polluting fantasy these days, offering a more densely layered and genuinely human story, one as riveting as it is relatable. The hardships the crew of the Wager endures beggars credibility, but it’s all true, and it makes you appreciate our modern world of convenience (too convenient if my prior paragraphs are any indication).
Time Stamp: Review starts at 29:45
The Art of Storytelling 
i dig the addition of the music video. Lol.
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Thanks!
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