Sunday, October 26, 2014

Stalker Nostalgia

Let's all just admit once and for all that if given the opportunity to internet stalk, we will.  It's just how it is and I refuse to accept any flak on the subject.  You do it, I do it.  End of story.

So today, I was internet stalking the profile of my very first boyfriend.  The man I moved overseas for; the one that introduced me to drugs and rock'n roll. (Sex by that point was a foregone conclusion.) Yes, if you have ever wondered; these cliches are true.

Guess what?  He's got a new band and a song posted.  A rough demo, yes but I'm so glad to see he's still dedicated to his passion.  I remember countless hours listening to him strum his guitar and sing portions of unfinished songs and in fact, there are three never recorded tracks I find myself singing years later. I would drown to Suede's My Dark Star as he perniciously practiced Bernard Butler's beautifully haunted solo.  Pernicious because I thought I would murder him if I had to listen to the same five bars just one more time (aka the Joys of Living with a Musician).  Of course, now I love those same five bars with a reverence so holy, so deeply ingrained are they in my musical repertoire....this manic clutching devotion to Suede.

Nostalgia stains deeply, just like the tattoo I carry from that time, and I won't apologize for it. Didn't we just think we were grand Wild Ones as we poetically, tragically, romantically said goodbye in airports and train stations by singing to each other yet another Suede song, And on you my tattoo will be bleeding and the name will stain.

Coming of age is a state of being so personal and universal; its potency reverberates in us all.

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