Everything I write will be unintelligible in five years (if it isn't already).

I was reflecting on the transience of existence (procrastination), when I realised it's no longer a lifelong concern, but a day-to-day thing. Soon writing about current events will mean nothing to anyone, because the current events will be in the past, and no one knows nothing about the past no moar. It occurred to me that everyone of my generation knows what the 1950s-1990s were like, but we might be the last ones. A whole generation is coming for whom "The 50s" will mean the future. Everything fades into the mist. "The 20s" is only five years away. Now, when people think of "The 20s", they'll think of the retro dubstep revival or the One Direction reunion tour, and not Harold Lloyd or Clara Bow. What's worst of all is that in five years' time, noone living will even know what that sentence means.

I most likely won't be able to play VHS tapes to my abducted grandkids, and that makes me sad. Kind of like how in Victorian times they used to burn mummies from Egypt for firewood. When the mummies ran out, a lulzy tradition disappeared from the face of the Earth. Nowadays we have to make do with grandpas and grandmas. Once something is gone it's never coming back.

The bank of knowledge I have about the recent past seems sort of definitive of recent history. When that's gone, events such as the 2015 election or World War 3 will take the place of Vietnam or McBusted as cultural touchpoints for the upcoming generation, and soon people like you and I will be as irrelevant and forgotten as the Georgians, and our maymays and fashions as incomprehensible and pointless as theirs.