The past few days, a ton of seaweed and oceanjunk has washed up onto the beach lining the boardwalk near my house. As a result, a mildewy smelliness has been filling all the air. This might seem disgusting to some, but for me, instead, I feel inspired to play my old Game Boy and Battletoads, go swimming in and run around shirtless and tiny and free; wake up late, watch the sun go down, climb around on the roof, takes stupid videos, drive out on adventures to Swansboro, watch big old brown television, see girls downtown and be raised up all over again.
Nostalgia is a bittersweet monster who never sleeps. It twists our brains through into magic realities, gurgling up worlds long gone past and instilling a weird sense of false-hope for something almost touchable. It can transform the scent of rotting seaweed on the beach into the relieving pungentness of a swamp cooler blowing into a hot summer's window during an afternoon in Placerville, in a house full of childhood clarity, comfort, and hope for life. We are victims to these transformations, to the chemical demons of body and mind, our instincts, all victims, our cultures and pasts, our childhoods- Nostalgia is its own liaison, it works actively, it never rests; Nostalgia is also only a word.
Because, victims or no, we can still win.
See, sometimes I don't want to fight it. As the swamp cooler blows imaginingly through my Santa Cruz beachhouse window, I long for an unknown past only available by my thoughts.
(I smelled it again just now, and my brain says "Zelda!" and it says "Trevor Thueson"
There it is again! And it says "mom" and "javalanches" and tells me about being the last one awake at night)
And so I win. I know better. It's sad, and I know. And it's not that sad... I mean can't we lasso Nostalgia around the waist, sling it over our shoulders use it in battle as an emotional tool? as we trek on future's way? Yes. I harness Nostalgia; the demon power becomes my greater god. I love the smell of the swamp cooler, I'm swooned all over again by Nag Champa or Love Spell, I dream about Jessica, I smile to Erasure, I miss Star Wars game cards and Russell Emch, I'll never stop loving old girliefriends and the Beatty family I'll always remember
- and so, and so, and so,
I win.
*train horn blares nearby*
6 comments:
mikie this is very rad because as anyone i feel this way very often, seemingly you feel it the way i do. i love it, i love nostalgia, despite the almost-angry sadness it brings into the top notches of my spine. i never want to beat it back, i thrive off nostalgia, i live in the present to remember again someday in the far foggy future (altho not entirely), and the taste of einstein brothers coffee, the smell of fritos and old shirts, the sun on shaky tips of yellowing pine trees, all of it times old and new and young and old and middle aged. its neat. i had a nitemare last nite like ive had a few times that you called me and gave me some sorta bad news about the house, that i wouldnt be able, somehow, to come live there. you never called me back! and it spawned a nitemare! AHHHH! hope its lovely and all there. signing off
-uncle joey chuck
mikie
this is a good blog. I do love it. Being past 30 and all, one forgets the childhood wonders. I mean, they are all there, and if I CHOOSE to remember them, they come back in beautiful fullness. But there is so much to remember now, London streets and colours...cross-country greyhounds, September 11ths, gumbo in Louisiana, singing on stage the 1st time, old musicals we were in, warehouses full of nightmares with friends who were really strangers, drugs, poetry readings, houses burning down, orange-blossom evening runs in Sacramento, driving to Malibu beach after working a busy vegan day in Santa Monica. It all blends together and I easily can forget 3112. And Fluffy and Buffy and Smed, and swing-sets, and Larry, Nag Champa, and station wagons and play practice and the dream I once had so very young of true true love. I remember the wonders of my 20's now, as you will soon see, the teenage years of nostalgia fade...depending on how much new nostalgia build-up comes with the twomps.
Mikie I didn't finish that last comment. What I mean, is, thank goodness for younger brothers. To remind me of where I am from. I can remember it all. WHERE ARE WE CAMPING THIS YEAR? I am all for Angora and Fallen Leaf Lake again. It was so pretty there, if we go on weekdays. We should get it reserved now. Or Twin Lakes, of course. Or Rock Creek. Or somewhere new in utah? HELP ! We need to get this reserved before we don't get spots like that one year in Tahoe. Thanks for your sweet blogs.
hi mikie, it's true. this was a lovely blog that brought back the "my little brothers at roosevelt street" feeling all too vividly. it is good to remember all this, and i appreciate thinking of you reliving it in your current so-different santa cruz setting. love you!
This reminds me of the No Motiv song, "Nostalgia" (you know it eh Joey, maybe Mikie you too!).
"And I'll never feel the same, and I'll always feel the pain of nostalgia."
Definitely nostalgia is also one of my most powerful emotions. It's unbelievable how potent it can be. Even just writing about it, thinking about how it affects me makes me feel that way. And those song lyrics too. It's been some time since I've listened to them. Anyway, good blog. Awesome before/after photos too. Was that first one taken the day of the final moveout or what?
Uh,oh - you all seem to have a bit of the old sentimentality - you just wait...you'll be like me, crying for old times, working so hard to move forward, but never never forgetting...the smell of that sweet newborn baby, parks and rec preschool twice a week, library trips and summer reading club, that first trip to kindergarden with your oldest child, open houses at school, Halloween - the years defined by what costume was worn by whom, Thanksgivings large and small, Christmas, little league games, piano lessons, play practices, graduations, all many, many years after my own teenage nostalgia. Life is a trip - a long and glorious road trip, with many many changes along the way. Nothing ever stays the same - we can only hope for more lovely, nostalgic moments to tuck into our memory to bring out and contemplate during quiet moments. You are my world...
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