2004-04-29 || 11:03 a.m.
|| memory game ||
i have the most terrible/forgiving habit of looking back on the past as absolutely perfect/charming. with this habit comes a crippling sentimentality that dictates games of duelling polaroids with owen, where i pulled box after box of pictures from under my bed and he matched me with box after box pulled from the depths of matilda the van. there is a beautiful overlap in our collection, so we fought over pictures of 1999 - present with a ferocity only found in those who are driven by nostalgia and selective memory and the need to carry documentation like three-by-three-inch albatrosses: countless show pictures, portland, san francisco, all the pictures that were once plastered on the walls of the living room of fort mcgee, epicenter of best friendships from the era. i kept saying we looked so young and lovely back then, young and lovely and goofy and happy, to which an impartial onlooker replied, "but you guys look exactly the same." i think in that picture i was standing in the corner watching a house show. there were a lot of house shows at the mcgee house (wishing i could sort d-land for corroborative entries), all with owen and michael and jason and cass. i am remembering them as absolutely perfect, cinema-worthy, with our coordinating rag-tag outfits and cans of oly beer and the organ and cass's drawing of dead presidents and soul stars. i feel a lot older. i feel like my connections have been strained and stretched out. i feel like that girl is someone else, someone whose face i remember but never got to know very well.
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