Nostalgia? Where we're going, we don't need... nostalgia.
If you look very carefully you can see the ghost of a feral squirrel staring menacingly out at you through the window.
Dwight Street, New Haven, November 8th, 2014
There is a well worn saying that you can’t go back, used frequently without ever seeming to refer to exactly what it is that you are going back to and negated by the reality of simply placing one foot behind the other and shifting one’s weight. Often this is accompanied by the statement that the past is a different country to which your entry visa long ago expired, and sadly now you can only bore people with your holiday snaps of how fantastic it all was.
Last weekend I filled the Mr Fusion with a dozen stale banana peels, set the chronometer to 2002 and cranked up my imaginary DeLorean to 88mph, blasting through space and time back to the shady days of the last decade when Unkie Dave had yet to even turn thirty and sat alone in a squirrel-filled house in the fabulous New Haven, Connecticut while the Very Understanding Girlfriend sat a million miles away in Africa doing fieldwork.
Seeing as how The Very Understand Girlfriend is currently sitting a million miles away in Africa doing her fieldwork, it seemed only appropriate that given the work-related necessity of being on the East Coast of the US of A I should travel up to the Have’ and relive those glory days of post-Millennial bliss.
Nostalgia is a funny beast, it allows you to be simultaneously delighted by the sudden influx of pleasant memories of the past while saddened at how different your life has turned out in the intervening years. I would have to admit that my 29-year old self would never have imagined the direction my life would have taken between there and here, but there is a definite sense that he would raise his eyebrows and question some of my life decisions. He would also be surprised and disappointed by the lack of alcohol in my life, which is probably why I am a better person than he.
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