Back Again
From beyond the dead, a post rises from the desolate blog. Symbolically, I suppose Spring works as a time to come back and write something.
Subjects come and go for me, and I’ve been way out of practice for a while. Certainly, some of this comes from other people and other blogs addressing topics much better than I manage. Not only that, but after two years of political overload those topics seem less interesting. Work also keeps me pretty busy, so my time gets eaten up, so I really need to gin up the interest to write about anything. Too many ideas seem banal, too.
With that in mind, I’ll write about my recent bout of nostalgia.
Over the last couple of months, dozens of old friends, classmates, and coworkers popped out of the woodwork. Folks I’ve not talked to in years found me and it feels like I am young again. Not that I’m old.
Last night I met up with some friends that I don’t see often, but I usually get a chance to see them a couple of times each year. These were friends I originally met in elementary school and high school. One moved out of state years ago, but he occasionally returns and it feels like he’s only been gone for a couple of weeks. All of us are good natured smartasses. A couple of bucks for beer and bar food is nothing for a couple of hours with those folks. A steak and several cocktails would be cheap to spend time with them, but as I’m a little tight right now I’m glad it was less expensive.
Earlier this month I got together with the other Three Musketeers to see our dear friend the Aging D’Artangnan. Over Christmas, I found a movie on DVD that he’d mentioned many times… a comedy from when he was younger that he really enjoyed. He waited four months to watch it with us. Perhaps a different style than we were used to, but we enjoyed watching “Miss Tatlock’s Millions” with old D’Artangnan. He, too, is one of those guys you can just hang out with for hours. Many times, we stay up past one in the morning talking, drinking, smoking, and talking more. All the old stories of our Gold Plated Years come back. These days, we’re more than a little aware of his time. None of us want to admit that he might go sometime. We might have him for many years to come, or not, but we don’t want to miss our chances.
Subjects come and go for me, and I’ve been way out of practice for a while. Certainly, some of this comes from other people and other blogs addressing topics much better than I manage. Not only that, but after two years of political overload those topics seem less interesting. Work also keeps me pretty busy, so my time gets eaten up, so I really need to gin up the interest to write about anything. Too many ideas seem banal, too.
With that in mind, I’ll write about my recent bout of nostalgia.
Over the last couple of months, dozens of old friends, classmates, and coworkers popped out of the woodwork. Folks I’ve not talked to in years found me and it feels like I am young again. Not that I’m old.
Last night I met up with some friends that I don’t see often, but I usually get a chance to see them a couple of times each year. These were friends I originally met in elementary school and high school. One moved out of state years ago, but he occasionally returns and it feels like he’s only been gone for a couple of weeks. All of us are good natured smartasses. A couple of bucks for beer and bar food is nothing for a couple of hours with those folks. A steak and several cocktails would be cheap to spend time with them, but as I’m a little tight right now I’m glad it was less expensive.
Earlier this month I got together with the other Three Musketeers to see our dear friend the Aging D’Artangnan. Over Christmas, I found a movie on DVD that he’d mentioned many times… a comedy from when he was younger that he really enjoyed. He waited four months to watch it with us. Perhaps a different style than we were used to, but we enjoyed watching “Miss Tatlock’s Millions” with old D’Artangnan. He, too, is one of those guys you can just hang out with for hours. Many times, we stay up past one in the morning talking, drinking, smoking, and talking more. All the old stories of our Gold Plated Years come back. These days, we’re more than a little aware of his time. None of us want to admit that he might go sometime. We might have him for many years to come, or not, but we don’t want to miss our chances.
posted by Badda at
1:27:00 PM
