I was thinking some more about a conversation from yesterday- about greatness of before, and the pallid light of the current batch of talent- be it literary, musical, etc.

I was thinking that part of the equation is a sense of time. That there has been time to filter out the drek, and what we get is the best of the best. That the rest of what was no doubt popular at the time can be found in thrift stores and shelves in restaurants- as atmosphere- but isn't read anymore. Especially the case with first editions- I remember the brisk trade we did in those at the bookstore in Tempe where I worked. Not all first editions are valued, doncha know.

I was also thinking about the past via my own personal filter. The 60s have a golden glow about them. Because that was the earliest part- all was new, and all was pretty much perfect. The only real problem I faced at the time was when I got spanked for running around naked in the cold. I think I was 2. I vaguely remember. I have seen pictures. Not really a big thing- those all came later.

But the music and the movies and the television from that time really moves me. Still. Something about the golden glow and the resultant nostalgia. I will actually use that label- just because I hold the whole bloody thing so close to my heart. It's where I dream when I am lucky. It's where I would live again if I had the chance. It's the core. The boy understands- he has heard plenty in 15 years, and understands. That all that came before was almost perfection. And after was just...not...

This state of affairs doesn't really please me. It's hard to be split between real and unreal like that (yes Sean, I am aware that real and unreal are difficult terms- we should talk!). And sometimes I long for the discipline to jettison the whole mess. But that would be giving up on something that I treasure so profoundly. I wonder if this is how an alcoholic feels about demon rum- love and distaste at the very same time...

Hello. I am a nostalgiaholic. Where's my bloody support group?