it’s mighty quiet here now that you’re gone
i’ve been behaving myself for too long
In the process of rereading my whole journal, from the very beginning, such as it is. It’s funny; something possessed me to look up Everything but the Girl yesterday, and I discovered they had released their first album of new material in 24 years this past spring. I guess there’s hope for me yet if creators can take that long of a hiatus between updates and pick up where they left off.
Still, Tracey’s voice sounded very different. They’re in their 60s now, which is wild to think about. A lot of life happens in 24 years, and I could hear it in her voice. Just as nuanced as it had always been, but with a tinge of age to it. Not as clean and pure. Different. Just different.
Reading back on my journal entries, as much as I’d like to think it’s autobiographical to the degree that anyone could read and piece together some kind of coherent narrative of those years of my life, I know that’s untrue. My mind works overtime as I read my own words, remembering people, places, situations, feelings and filling in all the (substantial) gaps. I wonder what impression it would all leave on someone coming in cold? I suppose it would be similar to the type of impression I left on my journal followers at the time, at least the ones who didn’t know me in person, but just through my written words on the screen.
It’s an understatement to say I miss those times, but I read about my antics and think about all the time I wasted, and still waste every day. I read my work-related comments and remember that I didn’t even have a work ethic to speak of until ImageWorks in Winston-Salem in early 2007. So much (all?) of what I complained about was my own fault, but I just treated others’ crises and frustrations as normal, or par for the course, or something. I was (and am) so immature. I wonder when, or if, it gets better?
Oh, and with only a few noteworthy exceptions, my poetry really sucked.