Skip to content

The web sites we once were

1 min read

The other day, out of curiosity, I went hunting for one of my very first web sites. I created it with a free service in 1998; most of those services were swallowed up, years later, by big tech companies, and all the sites within them held underwater until they expired. Somehow, though, not this one. I searched for the silly title I gave the site, and a single Google result was returned. The sad little web site I created nearly twenty-five years ago is still out there, still breathing, like something I abandoned on the side of the road. I clicked through its pages, chuckling to myself at all of the ambition I'd written there, and all of the boundaries I hadn't yet learned to reach past. Twenty-year-old me wrote feverishly there about his favorite movies and books, served up some unreadable—really, truly atrocious—poetry, and honestly believed other people would want to contribute their own work, too.

I spent a few minutes clicking around, and then it was too much, so I left that little web site there on the shoulder, stuck forever in its sad little moment.



Related Posts

Like and subscribe

The very first blog post I ever wrote was in 1998. I don't think the word 'blog' was being bandied about quite yet, though I could be wrong. And mine was hardly more than a static site I updated regularly with new entries. I've been thinking lately about how much

Finding pleasure in the work

I wrote my very first novel just after high school. As with most first novels—particularly first novels written by someone hardly more than a teenager—it struggles mightily to be good. Oh, young me wanted so badly to be a writer. That eagerness regularly collided with my inexperience, not

Winter at Hill House

This week, as I enjoyed a little time off, it snowed for the first time this season. The hill we live atop is steep, generally too steep when icy for even a Jeep to navigate safely, so when it snows, we stay home. (Easier this year, since "stay home" has