I’ve had a couple of days of something like saudade, of a longing brought about by Facebook, in which friends from long ago from two very different times in my life have brought up pictures in which I stand, younger, with impossibly ridiculous windscreen glasses, jeans and in some cases 70’s moustache and even beard. Somewhere in the Andes with my music student friends in 1980, or elsewhere lost in the middle of Venezuela, or in the middle of a mad, mad party at Blake’s in Watford, with [livejournal.com profile] redd_foxx. sometime in the 90’s . In all these cases I can read my mind at the time: thinking that my life was so dull and nothing interesting ever happened in it. And yet, looking back...

From: [identity profile] flavius-m.livejournal.com


Thanks.. that's odd, I tried the link from a different computer, browser not logged in FB and it seemed to work. Will check. Not that it's vitally important or anyfin, but all the same..

From: [identity profile] ngarara.livejournal.com


There's probably a cookie that FB uses to ID you - it does appear to be permissions-related, i.e. we can't see them because we're not friends of the owner. Message is:

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