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But no matter which class section I took, one thing was always constant: the instructor would ask what inspired you to write, and there were always at least three people who said “Life itself!”

Seven years since my first Gotham workshop, I still think about this. What did they mean by “life itself”?

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It wasn’t this particular model. The one I grew up with was that late 70s-early 80s “wood age” style that was clunkier, the one I spied in the thrift store was a smaller version. But the clock radio I recall had red numbers on the dial like this.
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Oh yeah kids, they looked JUST like this. Ours was mounted on the wall next to the fridge and had this long curly wire, and if you picked it up when someone was on the Internet you’d get treated to this cacophony akin to a belching fax machine being run over by a monster truck.

The defining moment for this came when I happened to hear the radio contest take place when I got home.

The announcer excitedly belted that it was time to call in to win your concert tickets if you could name the song that just played.

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Game dev, writer, small biz & tax consultant to indie devs. Above all, socialist childfree shitposting crazy toad lady from The Fucking Bronx www.sonictoad.com

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