Monday, May 01, 2006

A rare senti post

In the very distant past, somewhere in my youth or childhood, I took my obsessions seriously. This was before the creation of the interweb, so when I was seriously jonesing for information and other articles of fandom, I would scour bargain bins for used magazines, hunt through the dustier sections of bookstore shelves and, on occasion, correspond with like-minded individuals.

This is how I got my bootleg copy of The Black Album exactly when it was first "released" and then "recalled," found the lyrics to the Star Trek theme and, well, amassed a mountain of LOTR-related paraphernalia. (Yes, this list does indicate the extent of my geekhood). Somewhere in my reading of the back pages of Rolling Stone, I picked up on a few other albums, including this gem that became one of my favorite albums of the next 5 or so years.

I wore thin my vinyl copy, and then forgot about it. It's probably in storage in a soggy bodega in Manila right now. A month or so ago, in a fit of nostalgia I went ahead and bought the CD from Amazon. When it arrived, I popped it into the CD player and, with the first melancholy guitar notes and david 1's plaintive "Miss Cristina drives a 944," just like that, I was 15 again. Before college, grad school, first love, heartbreak, Grumpus; before New York, Hong Kong, that F in Math 18, my driver's license, the Peter Jackson trilogy; before my first cigarette, my first beer, my first job, my first surgery. I hadn't grown into my adult height and weight, hadn't come out of braces, had never talked to a boy without blushing, hadn't yet learned to understand my parents.

The air was ripe with incipient adulthood. It seemed that everything was possible and yet nothing was within reach. Do you ever feel anything as intensely as you do when you're 15? I hadn't been anywhere or done anything, and yet I thought I understood the heartache, failure and desperation that david + david sang about. As the CD played, all the emotion flooded back, and that same peculiar mix of expectation and naive world-weariness hit me like a ton of bricks.

In the intervening years, the abstract has become concrete, generalities have become specifics, limitations have been revealed. I've been places and done things and learned how to laugh at myself. But the oddest thing is that I don't feel like I've grown up or changed into a different person. I feel like the person I was when I was 15 is still there, fully real, and living somewhere in the back of my head.

3 Comments:

Blogger ragamuffin girl said...

I feel the exact same way about myself at 17. Like Lyra's daemon familiar, it keeps following me around and insinuating itself in my thoughts, but like Mary Malone's bird, it takes something to trigger that self into being.

10:15 AM, May 03, 2006  
Blogger midicrux said...

I feel like an eleven-year-old. New Wave: Echo and the Bunnyman, The Lotus Eaters, New Order interspersed with Spandau Ballet and Duran Duran...

. . . and that first unwanted kiss at the marriage booth. Ugh. Dawn knows.

2:38 AM, May 05, 2006  
Blogger Bandit said...

I miss those days sometimes. All the regrets, should haves, why did I do that situations. What a great topic! Ever wonder what our conversations would be like if we were all 15 or 17 and had lunch out together?

6:10 PM, May 07, 2006  

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