thefly

I was just lying here on the couch listening to some music I downloaded (a state I haven't found myself in in quite some time). I was listening to Bob Seger's Night Moves, became overcome with memories. Well, not quite right... it wasn't exact memories. I recalled a mood, I guess. Of young teenage thoughts. Of sex and hopes of the future. Yeah, of potential love with the current crush. Quite a bit has changed since those balmy days of innocence. Hope and good tidings have died. Left is a pragmatic stoic bordering on brooding misanthrope. I miss those days, I miss Night Moves. I miss who I was and the potentially bright future. Perhaps its the roll of years, such thoughts that I tied to old songs from the 60s and 70s (The Byrds' Time of the Season is playing on in the background right now) are thoughts that only seem ripening in the teenage years. Maybe that's why Joe Cocker's Little Help From My Friends was the theme to Wonder Years (that and the show's setting, I guess). My own personal Winnie Cooper only existed in those songs, transposed over the aforementioned crushes. Do those hopes based upon Seger hits always die so horribly? Perhaps these feelings of nostalgia, such as the old ballfield at Westmore Middle School and Van Morrison's Brown Eyed Girl, are resurfacing due to being back in NC. Nothing would please me more than to find someone who'll relive those days with me, the days of pretending to be Indiana Jones, running through the woods with friends, that first school dance, first concert, nights of sneaking out of the back bedroom just to buy a $.60 glass bottled Mountain Dew from the corner store, imagining my little town was the backdrop of my Double Dragon video game. Ah, to find someone to return to innocence with me, before bills and money and driving and technology, before sex and being friends and relationships and betrayals.

Mamas and the Papas... California Dreaming playing. At least its not In The Year...

Is this the wound that never heals, a pain that we learn to live with? Are we too bent on being adults and playing games we think we have to (we don't, but by not playing these stupid games I'm the outcast)? Rhetorical questions, all of them, I guess. It's just alienating to find no one else seems to think like this, wants to escape into a fantasy world with me. I guess we've all really grown up.


There was an album I had at one time that I wish I had again. It was Rod Stewart's Unplugged... and Seated MTV recording. Waltzing Matilda. Handbags and Gladrags. It reminds me of Myrtle Beach, my aunt's apartment, happy high school days and how I thought grown up love should be. It's still my belief but that means everyone else (like that first girlfriend who said we HAD to fight so we could make up) is wrong.

Wish I had that album again... I'd listen to it alone.