Seriously now, I’m just basset hound tired of seeing these ridiculous, simplistic beyond belief memes. They laud the wonders, the life-was-so-much-better-back-then of carefree childhoods spent splashing about in creeks, staying out past dark on warm summer nights, going to the prom with your first BIG crush and whatevs. According to these images, in our collective youth, it was always summer, no one was poor and parents were benevolent but in the background. Life was good and safe.
They’re all about Like and Share too. Fuck that noise!
I get it though. Rilly. For the vast majority of us, life’s just 599 kinds of complex and about to get even more so now that the Cheeto Brain Fart’s gonna be Prez and, OOPSIE, destroy the world. (yes, yez…hyperbole, it’s what’s for motherfucking breakfast). It’s nice, sort of, to imagine that our little universes used to be so much simpler and sublime. *snort*
Back in my hearing days, songs could trip me into wistful little pools. I’d hear Gerry Rafferty’s City to City album and remember the very, very beginning of my carnival years. I was at the start of a big, new adventure in an unknown jungle, (commonly known as Being an Adult. AKA Old Enough to Leave Your Parents Land). But then, almost immediately – before Baker Street ended – the crazy horrors of the road would come back to me.
Blondie’s One Way or Another or Heart of Glass would come on the radio and I’d instantly transport to the painting or ceramic’s studios from college days. Kevin and I’d be dancing and singing (off key 'natch) – getting all silly. The Hipster Police, (the profs who MUCH preferred the very serious painter boys with their cloaks of world weary, downtown-don’t-give-a-fuck), would always come in to bust us though. We were just too damn happy and uncool to be making that much noise. Assholes.
And then, mebbe, Long John Baldry’s Don't Try To Lay No Boogie-Woogie On The King Of Rock and Roll would play and, boyhowdy, that’d take me back to the hell that was my high school years. Love the tune but the place that it took me to was a time when music was my only sanctuary. Nowhere else was safe.
I’m no good at nostalgia. I keep snapping back to RealityVille. Context – I’m doomed to see all life within context.
My older sister remarked once that I only remember the bad things about our childhood (we’re just two years apart and, until adolescence, were pretty much inseparable) while she recalls only the good parts. Possibly there was too much of each for either one of us to carry alone? There were some good times!
Right now, I’m trying to keep the fabulous, wonderful memories from my 30 years (!!!) with The MOST Amazing Bob in mind. The harder MGH images keep fighting their way up to the top of the pile. I much prefer having our sunny times in that easily accessible prime spot. Ya know, fer instance, that hilarious, fun, tremendous wedding of ours.
By the by (and EVEN related!) I found a great (short too so click ovah!) post by Michelle Parrinello-Cason of Balancing Jane. Yes, a new semi-escapist blog to follow.