Saturday, February 25, 2006

Ancient History

Yesterday I scrounged up all my music/flute paraphernalia and spent about 45 minutes practicing my flute (and about 15 minutes goofing around on the recorder). I guess my karmic reward for taking a step to start playing again was the discovery of a bunch of cool stuff in my Box O' Music that I didn't even know I had. I had a good time sorting through it all and I was rather delighted at some of the things I discovered. Some were a total surprise, such as two stories I started during my senior year in France. I find it amusing to revisit my former selves and it was good to get a glimpse of my mind at the age of 17.

When I write, I have a tendency to start stories and then never finish them. I'm sure I have several more story beginnings stashed around my apartment. I haven't done much creative writing in a verrrry long time, so it surprised me that perhaps I was better at it than I ever gave myself credit for. One of the stories has the best title on the planet (below) and I really wish I had finished because I like it quite a bit. In any case, I thought I would post what I wrote here for several reasons, including amusement, but hopefully you'll forgive me the self-indulgence (and the lack of a real ending). ;)

I always wondered what was wrong with me. There would be the times, in class, when I'd stop listening to the teacher and focus on the sounds outside. The playground noises always wafted uninvited through the closed windows, the echoes of laughter and screams, and for some unexplainable reason, I'd be thinking of summer. The hot, still summer days when you could just feel the emptiness of the world, when the ringing, joyful sounds of the ice cream man's truck would fill the streets, bringing hordes of little, screaming androgynous bodies out in an ecstatic rush.

Thoughts of a warm, sunny beach, bathed in silence and embraced by beauty, where one is lost by thoughts and maybe a little melancholy; a sense of sadness as the burning golden sun slips down on the horizon, an unconscious knowledge that something beautiful has passed.

I never knew why, I always felt like I was missing something in my life, I had an achingly hollow feeling inside, the thoughts of summer and what I was supposed to be only magnified it. Even the busiest days would leave me craving something, an unnameable empty feeling, a melancholy that I wanted so much to lose.

I couldn't help but think about it and those visions of summer swam in my head. The world would slow until an almost stop, no one would exist except me and I'd be carried away my something I couldn't explain.

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