Atomictumor

Nostalgia is a funny thing.  When you’re in the now, you rarely think of it becoming the then.  I believe Randal "Pink" Floyd said it best when he uttered this memorable line about his high school days:

"All I’m saying is that if I ever start referring to these as the best years of my life - remind me to kill myself."

But that’s the thing: when you’re 17 years old, riding around in your car, bitching with your friends about school, parents, and the fact that you’re unable to legally purchase alcohol, you never realize how good you have it.  At that age, all you can think about is not being that age, about what lies ahead in the murky unknown.
Unfortunately, what lies ahead is rarely as transcendental as when you’re in it. 
Lately, for whatever reason (probably age), I find myself thinking about that time, when the only real worry I had was that test on Monday morning (passed with flying colors) and whether or not some guy would ask me to the Christmas dance (not a chance).
As I sit here listening to Morphine’s album "Cure for Pain", I reminisce about all the friends I used to hang out with.  I never thought I had that many friends, but temporal distance has amplified relationships to the point where even mere associates morph into close confidantes.  Rarely a day went by, much less a weekend, when I didn’t have some contact with friends outside of school.  Sometimes it was sharing coffee and cigarettes with one or five people at Waffle House.  Other times it was schlepping out to Clinton to shoot pool at Senor Frogs.
My parents, being the hip people they were, allowed me to have mixed-sex sleepovers quite often.   My friends and I would drive out to the Movie Station (or the Phillip’s 66 movie rental counter until I got kicked out for returning What’s Eating Gilbert Grape? late) and rent the cheesiest-looking horror movies we could find and stay up all night, goofing around and eating pizza.
As fond as I am for these memories, I think I miss the culture of my youth even more.  Unless you were there, you might not understand it, but I look at Nirvana in much the same way as some people look at Elvis, the Beatles, Led Zep or the Ramones; they defined a point in time, rememberable, but at the same time, unattainable.  So says the good Doctor:

"Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant."

What it meant, for me, was defiance, a "fuck it" attitude, freedom, driving fast and screaming the lyrics to whatever was on, picking up anchor and driving into town and just doing stuff, serendipity, and feeling alive
So I think, for today, I’ll put on a rotation of albums that were close to my heart back then, and just veg out.  And maybe tonight I’ll make myself a big-assed cappuchino and watch Singles or Reality Bites.

Other nostalgic stuff for your eyes:
"Happy Days" 
American Graffiti
Animal House
"The Wonder Years" 
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas 
Almost Famous
Dazed and Confused
"Freaks and Geeks"
"My So-Called Life"