memorylaning

It usually starts with a beer. Gluten-free beer to be precise. Which doesn't align with the fact that sometimes I eat very gluten-filled pizzas but there you have it. And then it continues with a very easy search for a song or two 'from that time,' and then evolves into a full-fledged nostalgia tour through some recesses in my middle-aged mind, with more gf beer and a predictable playlist. Gold Lion's gonna tell me where the light is.

Inevitably, I'm in New York City, at the Cherry Tavern or Jimmy's Corner. Talking about nothing and laughing at everything. Or I'm eating fried potatoes and drinking crispy white wine at the end of the summer on the Brighton Beach boardwalk after our annual, what feels like death defying, round on the Cyclone. Or getting a cheeseburger from the Bossman. Or on the burgundy sheets. Or on the stoop at 2am after too many trips to the bathroom, speedy and licking my lips. Or I'm just walking down the street in Brooklyn, marvelling at this seemingly pedestrian act (did you see what I just did there?), 'normal' in New York actually incredible and electrifying to a younger me, soaking it in through every pore.

One legendary night, stepping out of the cab in Gramercy a total stranger stopped and remarked, "Wow. That dress looks incredible on you." Bam. I just got New Yorked.

I memorylaned a couple nights ago. It's never planned but always welcome. Though this time had a different flavour to other nights of the same ilk. This was the first time when I strolled through the memories that I didn't crave or wish or want. Usually, my memorylaning is tinged with sadness, with a longing for

some of those days. True, there's part of me that would love to dress in my younger self and experience some of the highs (maybe not literally anymore?) and excitements that came with roaming around the City on summer nights with friend who make you feel good, but actually, for the first time ever, I was just happy and grateful. Jesus.

Now that's pedestrian. Or maybe just middle-aged.

I was grateful for the people I had found. In fact, I thank the Lord for them. For the people I have found. The pure fact that I have those memories, that I shared that space and time with special peeps in the city that never sleeps, is a wondrous to me. That I'm still friends with some of them, even more. They knew me then, and they know me now. Weathered, we are. Aged versions of our younger selves. Still silly, greying at the temples and a little more mature. A little.

I didn't become morose at the endings of it all, like I might have done in the past. I just sat, and drank my beer, listened to my songs, and smiled.

If I could see all my friends tonight

If I could see all my friends tonight

whip sound

cymbals crashing

fade out