Blog Ephemera

Warning, this post is filled with squishy feelings.  If you’re not into that, go away.

Am about to break my own rule about not talking about special things- but I think this medium may be ok (just), because there is a purpose (sort of).  Crossed fingers this doesn’t jinx my happiness.

So Friday night, found myself chatting with a friend on the phone- it was a conversation that became a giggle fest which lasted a couple of hours, until I was kicked off the phone.  Not an exciting night (also not a productive night, given I should have been immersed in books), but I’ve come to recognise that these conversations pretty much sum up why I’ve managed to stay not only a relatively sane, but also a loving and, dare I say it, lovely person as well. 

Anyway, I think I’ve noticed a pattern with some of my relationships- which is, when I’m really close to someone, a decent proportion of my conversations and interactions (I approximate 60-70%) with them are filled with laughter and amusement that I associate uniquely with them.  Although perhaps this is simply because the people I love most, make me laugh most?

Let me be more specific: Friday night friend and I have known each other for more than a decade, and have spent a good lot of that time voluntarily spending much of that decade in each other’s presence.  Frankly, it boggles the mind.  The thing about our relationship is how uneventful it is.  We’ve never really fought, there has been very little drama between the two of us, and our initial interactions with each other tend to be quite low key.  As in, 

“Hey”,

“Hey”

“How’ve you been?”

“Eh, you know”. etc.

But then, for some unknown reason ten minutes later, there is uncontrollable laughter and giggles for pretty much as long as we’re together.  Nothing exciting has happened in those ten minutes- but my theory is that we get settled into what I’ve decided to term our ‘relationship rhythym’.  Relationship rhythyms determine ease of conversation, the nature of the laughter, frequency of laughter and a score of other important things.

Friday night friend and I have a really good relationship rhythym.  It isn’t about laughing hysterically at random things per se, it’s more that in each other’s presence almost everything becomes infused with a particular amused tone.  The rhythym, has been so well established that we delve in and out of serious topics, frustrating occurances, life plans, gossip, stupid stories and bad jokes with a really beautiful, almost balletic ease.  Really, it’s a gorgeous thing to experience, and I’m always grateful, because I have really fantastic (and unique) relationship rhythyms with several people in my life that I love and (sometimes) adore.     

The other thing with me and relationships however, is that I think about everything.  A lot.  Which is to say, even while I’m having a great time- I’m also thinking “wow, I’m having a really great time.  Again.  I really love this person.  Awesome.”  I’m pretty sure most people do this to varying degrees, which has made me think, the way people live their lives must be a continual process of ‘nostaliga-making’; actively producing memories for the future, documenting your life (instantaneously, moment by moment) in order to ensure that this life has been well lived.  

Any moment that we take ourselves out of the moment, to try to somehow make heads and tails out of what’s actually going on, is I propose, a strangely nostalgic moment within itself- i.e. you’re at a gig, standing there thinking,

“Am I having a good time?  Yes, I’m having a fucking great time.  Fantastic, ok, now I can enjoy this. “ 

(sometimes I take this process too far and think, “but am I really having a good time, or am I just trying to convince myself that I’m having a good time?  See! you’re thinking about whether or not you’re having a good time, so you can’t possibly be really involved, and having a good time… etc. This can go on for a while.  I wish my brain would shut up more often.)

Essentially, there is something really compelling about thinking “I have to remember this”.  Particularly, the bizzare need to translate experience into thought, if not art.  It’s like you can’t experience the moment until you’re able to mediate it in language, or something that manipulates it into something tangibly logical- something other than simply a ’feeling’.  If you’re motivated enough there’s some pretty interesting work on this stuff.  I am too lazy of course to name names. 

It gets more complicated though- when art comes into the picture this nostaligia thing becomes really fragile.  It can be a destroying cloying entity- or, if harnessed properly, I think, somehow manages to give you a peek at some truth.  Going back to the origins of my blog- I find myself thinking about Jonas Mekas quite a bit (he was a filmmaker amongst other things- this should be edifying), specifically his preoccupation with spontaneity.  So I put forth this possibility within the context of this post- one way of capturing the spontaneous on film could thereby be the search for:

Capturing nostalgic moments as if there will never be a reason to be nostaligic.  Presenting everything as if it is within the moment.  A moment which we pretend as if we’re never going to be taken out of- even though THAT is the ultimate fallacy, a great lie art continually perpetuates.  Which is to say, art pretends a life without mediation is possible. 

In the case of Mekas’ Lost Lost Lost, its diary format paradoxically does the nostalgic action for you, but pretends instead that the nostalgic moment is an artless, instantaneous thing unfolding before the eye- a moment which is thereby unmanipulated and unaffected.  Perhaps it is.  I’d have to see it again to make a decision.

But back to Friday night friend: semi-recently we engaged in a series of uber-nostalgic moments when we thought we would be seperated for a while.  Almost- soppy cards, letters and emails were exchanged with much love, until we reverted back to our usual state of slightly sarcastic exchanges and joke holiday/birthday cards, once the nostalgic urge had been satisfied.  Nevertheless, that outpouring of sop still occurs internally on a regular basis- I find myself filing away my time with FNF and others under varying rose-hued, euphoric (but which were really banal and mundane- mind you) moments to remember for the future. 

So here’s the final thought of my blog today: as much as I’ve denied it to myself and others,  I am a romantic.  Ugh, it’s gross I know…  But, don’t feel sick, just come join in with the love.

NOTE: next post will not be this sappy.  I may explore nostalgia’s dark side.  or not.