I meant to write, I honestly did. But then summer came and with it a lot of things went away. I didn’t think it would be like this but when people go off, there’s been a surge in nostalgia. Please don’t spread this around, I still insist that nostalgic is not a part of who I am at my core — but I can’t deny it’s there, lurking, waiting. And sometimes it leaps out from that darkness and smacks me in the back of my head.
I’m not good at dealing with it. It feels surreal and the whole five stages of grief is bullshit. It’s not stages, they come and go in waves which makes them even harder to deal with. Death. And I look back to other people who have gone. The words go silent, but the ones that have mattered the most, all of them dealt with words. And I miss that. And them. Fuck, do I ever miss them.
My mind is more narrow now than in the beginnings of the interpersonal Internets. I don’t have the urge to write down what I did this morning (I had a poop) and as I wrote last time, it’s hard to just start up again in a place not centralised and hosting all of your friends. Centralisation was a bad idea. A terrible idea even though I can see why we were so easily corrupted — it was easier while we made ourselves less. (I will not ignore that I made some great friends thanks to tumblr; shout-outs to Alyssa, Jack, Lison, and Max in particular!)
And I keep going back. I did it even when we were at tumblr. I keep going back to 2001-2006. To Alison at bluishorange, Paul Ford of ftrain, Kevin Fanning of whygodwhy, and most importantly Leslie Harpold. The decentralised community and the focus on finding your own path, I miss that. I also miss the writing, where something as small as writing a thank you card could span for as long as it needed.
There was melancholy and there was joy, and there was a sense of belonging. But mostly I associate it with happiness. I miss that too.
(This was meant to be 500 words long for reasons, but I choked on writing at 390. Which is bullshit of the highest order, but what can you do?)