I was out running errands this morning, and I popped a tape I'd dug out of the depths of my apartment into the deck in my car. This was a tape I'd made for a friend, later boyfriend, while I was living in Hong Kong and he was in Richmond, Va. We'd lived together for a while when I moved back to Chicago, and I guess the tapes I made him ended up in my pile of the merged tape collection, since they had my handwriting on them.
When I had glanced at the song list, it looked good but short. Of course I thought it looked good -- I made the damn tape. I put songs I liked on it. Duh. As for the short... After the first song (Peter Gabriel's Come Talk To Me), a voice said "And with a build up like that, you had to expect that I would, yes, talk to you." It was me, talking to Tripp. I told him about my new apartment, my first vacation to Thailand, my job, my plans to visit Northern Ireland -- and the other ex-boyfriend -- over Christmas, this new guy who would be living in our tiny apartment for a few weeks... just talked about life.
My god, I was young.
I must have been 22 or 23. It was amazing to hear myself chatter self-consciously about things I hardly remembered. I sounded so sure, like I knew what I was doing and what I was talking about. I didn't have a fucking clue. Just listening to myself, I remembered how it felt to be sitting in this foreign city halfway around the world from home, exhilarated by the experiences of Hong Kong and Thailand, places that words can't describe. How terrifying and exciting everything was, and how I was sure everything would work out all right, even though I didn't know what "all right" would mean.
My memories and impressions of Hong Kong, of those three years of my life, had gone sort of flat, two-dimensional. Hearing myself talk just flashed me back there. It was a totally different life -- I was a totally different person. I kind of miss her. I kind of cringe to remember her. How did I get from there to here?
When I had glanced at the song list, it looked good but short. Of course I thought it looked good -- I made the damn tape. I put songs I liked on it. Duh. As for the short... After the first song (Peter Gabriel's Come Talk To Me), a voice said "And with a build up like that, you had to expect that I would, yes, talk to you." It was me, talking to Tripp. I told him about my new apartment, my first vacation to Thailand, my job, my plans to visit Northern Ireland -- and the other ex-boyfriend -- over Christmas, this new guy who would be living in our tiny apartment for a few weeks... just talked about life.
My god, I was young.
I must have been 22 or 23. It was amazing to hear myself chatter self-consciously about things I hardly remembered. I sounded so sure, like I knew what I was doing and what I was talking about. I didn't have a fucking clue. Just listening to myself, I remembered how it felt to be sitting in this foreign city halfway around the world from home, exhilarated by the experiences of Hong Kong and Thailand, places that words can't describe. How terrifying and exciting everything was, and how I was sure everything would work out all right, even though I didn't know what "all right" would mean.
My memories and impressions of Hong Kong, of those three years of my life, had gone sort of flat, two-dimensional. Hearing myself talk just flashed me back there. It was a totally different life -- I was a totally different person. I kind of miss her. I kind of cringe to remember her. How did I get from there to here?
posted by SAJ at
6:55 PM
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