I miss foggy autumn mornings in San Francisco having breakfast with my bestie in his haunted apartment in a building which was once a Gilded Age brothel.
-gws
That one time when I realized that I lived several significant chapters of my life in a more compressed amount of time than I remember them. In my mind, these chapters are written in the space of a couple to three years, but in actuality it was only about eighteen months. And realizing this is all the fault of a playlist.
I'm from the days of mix tapes and mix CDs. Mixes may now be in the form of digital playlists, but this change doesn't alter the joy of these collections. These gems of curated musical narratives form soundtracks for my life. A really good mix yanks me back to a specific time and place. The music transports me into the heart of nostalgia where my younger selves dance in too bright colors with naive abandon.
Melancholy or celebratory, music transports me to a specific time, feeling, event, emotion. It's the time machine of memory connecting my flashbacks to my body as I New Jack Swing, Smurf, Roger Rabbit, Kid 'n Play, or head-bang on a cellular level when the right song plays. Maybe it's remembering a friend's antics on the dance floor, or awkwardly slow dancing with that boy I liked in ninth grade.
Playlists can share the feelings I am unable or unwilling to express out loud. The music tells my story through lyrics and orchestration. I can sing along and tell my truth in the middle of others, but only I know my expressions are more than a sing-a-long. I've confessed so much though the filter of a song playing on the radio, more through a well agonized over compilation presented to a crush or a friend. I've crafted playlists to set the tone for car trips and for friends surviving a breakup. Playlists are the gifts that keep on giving.
I look forward to being reminded of where I was physically and emotionally when I listen to old playlists. I look forward to creating new ones that speak to my now. I encourage you to shake your groove thang. Remember people are people. The groove is in the heart. It's okay to say bye, bye, bye. Hips don't lie. And don't forget to celebrate because it's the dawning of the age of Aquarius.
-gws
Once so tangible and full of detail
Now blurred to softness like watercolor ghosts
What used to feel like yesterday now reminds that yesterday was a long time ago
Like chalk in rain, only hints of detail remain
Specifics are now impressions wrapped in a soft quilt of nostalgia
I grasp hopelessly at the intangible like trying to hold onto a dream upon waking
I wish I could return to the presence of those times
To stand within myself and see again from my own eyes
Feel again with my own senses
Retouch the blurring lines like an old tattoo
And return the vivid, Technicolor, stereophonic quality of those most precious moments
In Kodachrome vibrancy on the mental reel to reel that are my memories
Before time leeched them of their saturation
Like a well-loved security blanket with its rough edges and snagged seams
I handle these memories with adoration as I explore what remains of something so
precious
And sit in gratitude for still having them at all
-gws
Words Wishes and Wisdom 