nostalgicLife sucks sometimes. It really does. Other times, I find that I just don't really care. It's then that I know the worst is staring at me from behind, and I'm fighting not to look back at it. Not to give it the satisfaction.
I was driving earlier today, and I happened upon a pleasant memory of when I was in my old minivan with my ex and my friend Scott: we were driving home at maybe 10 to midnight, and I can't remember if it was from TX renfest or from NOLA, but we had my old black&white TV up on the dash and we were watching old Red Dwarf coming in patchy, laughing and having a moment. It was maybe a couple months before the two decided they would hate the other and treat me as no man's land. I remember things just as they were in slowmotion. It reminded me of what I sometimes, despite myself, wished as an afterlife.
My Guinness is empty now. It's the last one. I always rail on about how miserable my memory is -- but it's that congenital defect that keeps me alive and shrugging along in the dull ache of life.
