tencent mix #1: greyskyblue

This is an exercise in nostalgia and self-reflection.

Just the other day, I was at your regular bookstore, wearing my mom's homemade scarf, sippin' Seattle's Best coffee, and playing the role of bookstore browser. I was drawn to a graphically-pleasing book, covered mostly in mono-spaced, typewriter font, entitled 'Four Letter Word: Invented Correspondence from the Edge of Modern Romance.' As I was flipping through each new page (I love the feeling of new pages between the fingers), I was reminded of a handful of letters I'd written and an excellent cyber-conversation I had with Alex the iBanker on the topic of nostalgia -- where I espoused, like the cheesiest of cheeseballs, the following:

I think the thing about [it] is that feeling of closure -- or I guess, the feeling of something old ending and something new beginning -- but really, or at least it seems to me -- that there's no real beginning and no real end to anything. There's just stuff. We always end up digging things up from our past and wishing the good times could have been an everyday occurrence for the future. Anyway, that's my spiel on nostalgia.
[END QUOTE]

Memories throw off our tendencies to think linearly. It's not regret, per se, but an illustration that life , or our way of thinking of it, can sometimes be circuitous. But it's healthy to think of the past in order to appreciate the things you have in the present. This is a mix that sums up a group of letters I wrote about a short time in my life I value. In many ways, the exercise was cathartic. Yes, catharsis -- only without the Oedipal complex and gouging of the eyes. I happen to like my eyesight, despite my myopia -- it allows me to make analogies about a bunny and a carrot, joke about all of my keen senses, and wear cute glasses.

I apologize to the adoring fan(s). This is not a 12-song mix for The People, but there will be more of those to come. Stay tuned. In the meantime, I hope that you can find something you like amongst the riffraff of tune-age.