Got in a bit of a nostalgic mood tonight. A small achievement and a number of transitions in people's lives got me looking around with a wax poetic about the moment. It's all happy turmoil, the best kind of turmoil... when people pull out the good scotch and sit around and celebrate a moment in the sun.
The mood got me into watching Akira, which has a nostalgia of its own. For my generation, slowly fermenting the anime craze todays youth exploded, it was *the* movie. If you thought you understood the philosophy, you weren't trying. The animation was intense and even included tracers on taillights with a clear wink at the LSD crowd. The mystique of post-apocalyptic Tokyo wasn't born here, but there is a direct line from it's roots through here to the series of today.
Hell, it's even been in
Southpark.
...
The evening also got me reading back in time. I used to describe myself like an engine churning out life... I remember shaping phrases in my head, picking out the words with ease; now that fine-tuned skill is a rusty blade sitting on the workbench. Did I lose the skill with the tool, or did I just set it down?
Five years... five years (and 3 months) since that first day with the fish tank, eating popcorn, realizing I had fish guts on my hands. I still have the fish tank (and the hands), but so much has happened inbetween. I've loved and lost, found fulfillment and the endless emptiness that follows when you lose it. And barring a surprise ending, this isn't only half the story... up to now my life has all been character development!
One lesson certainly prods right now as the night ends and the feral hearts howl to the moon: the person who said "if you love something, let it go, and if it returns to you it was yours" ... that glib bastard had that thing return.