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Other Peoples Nostalgic Heartbreak.

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[05 Sep 2006|09:51pm]

i've spent the last couple of nights staying awake until two in the morning (something i haven't done without then passing out a few seconds later in years), listening to the pixies on repeat and reading life after god by douglas coupland again and again (especially the pages that i've folded over a milimetre at the top because they had the good lines on them), hiding under the quilt and wishing i was fourteen.
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im new [04 Nov 2004|11:46pm]

[ mood | nostalgic ]

hey all, im new. I don't know if this counts for this community, since the description seems to gravitate towards music and lyrics that are nostalgic, but i was having this conversation with my roommate the other day that turned so nostalgic it got me obsessing over it.... Old school nickelodeon shows. I mean, he and I were naming the ones we could barely remember... and he would name shows that I know I watched, but couldn't even remember what they were or what they were about! I mean I had some of that stuff seriously repressed! So i got kind of frenzied and started searching for pics and info about the shows of my childhood... if it's ok, i'd like to share some with you, maybe these can do to you what they did to me... it was truly just an amazing feeling that i can't even put into words...

Back to TV land...Collapse )

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New community...is this allowed? [26 Oct 2004|10:55pm]


For those who are ever in, when others are out.
For those who are lonely and want some company.
For those who realised that they go on msn to much and should be out.
For those who are grounded and couldnt join there friends out.
For those who just want to write when they feel down and want some understanding comments.

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Tssh! [23 Jul 2004|03:37pm]

I'm currently reading the book "The Wind Up Bird Chronicle" by Haruki Murakami. Its wonderful to read a book that hits the solar plexus. A torrent of emotions and experience gets dragged up as you read what the author desrcribes so meaningfully to you, its a brilliant thing. It's also very depressing. Especially if the author, as in this case, has delivered a brilliant rendition of that sinking, dying feeling that overcomes someone who's losing someone they love, inexplicably and with little reason.

This in conjunction with the mood and memories brought about by the music of Broadcast. Then again as this is a journal of my thoughts its hard not to be self-absorbed. I've been inspired to remember with striking clarity days of my final exams in secondary school. I used to spend late nights sitting in a comfortable armchair situated staring out across the atlantic ocean. It pulsed and throbbed with that distinctive sound of breaking waves, echoing across the area where I live. I used to listen to a combination of music then. One would be the radio, a medium that always reaches its potential at about 12 to 4 at night (due to the lack of commercial influences). I used to listen to a particular Dj, a girl name Uaneen, she was your typical bubbly Indie chick, the kind a young boy idolises in terms of her individuality, and obvious good taste in music. Prior to my exams I'd had the good fortune of being very lucky in a number of competitions for three different music shows, one of which she hosted. I won about 20 cds, one being the album "The Noise Made by People" by Broadcast. This album was listened to obsessively, and remains one of my favourites to this day.

The reason I write such a long winded speel, is the magic of a combination of influences on the mind, to recall almost to the smell and feel, a certain period in a persons life. Culminated at that time, by the shock of said Djs life being extinguished at the end of the exams. She had died in a car crash. Strange given how her company via radio had been such a great help and solace at an important period in my life.
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last day of year 6 [15 Jul 2004|10:08pm]

[ mood | melancholy ]

Yesterday i passed two boys, probably 11. It was their last day in primary school. They weren't your average 11 year old, they were dressed in a tracksuit and one of them had a little afro comb in his afro. as i watched them, they draped their arms over each other and stayed there for a time. When they parted they eyes and cheeks were wet and sticky with tears. Their breath came out in shuddering gasps, and their forlorn faces were possibly the saddest things i have seen in a long time.
I couldn't believe it, rudeboys crying?
But then i realised that this was their last official day as children. In september their lives will start without eachother, the tough new world of secondary school would envelop them and they would never again feel as free to wrap their arms around their friends and cry.
And they knew.

I could put stuff about my own last day, but i don't think its necessary. I think that image might stay with me my whole life.

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[12 Jul 2004|08:19pm]

Today i my cell phone rang and since it was on the charger i ran all the way to my room to get it. Next to my phone was a picture of me and my best friend in middle school, eleanor. It was my dad asking me if i knew how to start dinner which i didnt...so he was talkin and as usual i tuned him out...and while i was listening to him babble i picked up the picture of eleanor and me which had collected a layer of dust...

it brought back so many memories. the picture was of us at our eighth grade promotion..and in the background i could see the backs of many former friends who have all gone their seperate ways now. The old cafeteria building in the background reminded me of those days when we would sit around the table our *group* had proclaimed our own. the boys would sit on one half, the girls on the other and we all shared food and sit and talked and laughed.

now...in high school, everything is so complicated. Eleanor goes to another school now...and i talk to her maybe once every 3-6 months. She's still a nice sweet girl but many others arent the same anymore. As a matter of fact...my set of friends have completely changed from middle school.

now often times, i take my brother to piano class at his teacher's house and pass by the back gate to my middle school and i would always think about those days we stood around after school, chatting and waiting for our parents, and making up code names for the guys we had crushes on. Although we still do that in high school, it's not the same anymore...most of us now have sports practice to go to, band, clubs, jobs etc. and we all drive and go places alone and meet other people. the world's no longer a small protected place...

i wonder what it will be like in college...
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[06 Jul 2004|10:19pm]

[ mood | sic.k ]

walking into peter jones uniform department. just the smell and the yellow dresses. the little cardigans and the tiny shirts.
i couldnt believe how over welled i was by it all.
then the brownies uniforms. everything in there.
after 6 schools, i probably had worn every different uniform in there.
nancy ddint understand why i was so upset, she never had a uniform.
it made me think of times in primary school, yr 3. we all thought we were so old, but now i look back and look at my brother, yr 3 and hes so small and the things he says, arent important but when your that age, you think your so important and so big and so cool.
my one memory is of the reay school discos, they were so embaressing and when i used to like sam in yr 5 and krissen said it really loudly and i was so embaressed, all these things now are so small compared to being 15.
i feel really sick now, over come by primary school memories.

this post hasnt been very good but i wanted it down.

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more on summer [03 Jul 2004|01:15pm]

[ mood | supergreen ]

from my small sagging bench on the back deck, i see greener than green, everywhere, leaves bigger than my head and hands, grass, flowers, trees. the hills wear it with grace, in every shade, these hues have no names. a cardinal rests on the feeder that used to hang empty. we all freeze and speak in hushed tones to convince him to stay longer and feed. he departs and now there is a natural kaliedoscope (green red amber green red)made by the rush of his feathers against the leaves and sun.

the wind blows and i hear the leaves whisper their secrets to the tinkling chimes and the flying bird and to my own small ears that haven't forgotten how to listen.

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[02 Jul 2004|12:16am]


There is something about my work experience that reminds me so much of my childhood. And i only worked out on wednesday that thats because it is my childhood.

forward publishing were every saturday evening we would go and pick my dad up from work. i would always be thirsty from the journey and all the art director, gary, would ever give me was digestive biscuits. true, it was a nice guesture. but when your thirsty the last thing you need is a dry old biscuit. so now, every time i walk into the art office i get the same old dry stodgy taste in my mouth.

while sitting and waiting for my dad to finish off, we would be surrounded by a flurry of women; receptionists, editors, writers who would ooh and aah at maurice's cute little children. the men, mostly gay anyway, would find us mildly amusing. i gues its the same now. the women go 'wow, you're maurices daughter' and then men find me mildly amusing, if not slightly frightening when i can, on the odd occasion, do their job.

after that, we would all go and have a chinese in soho or chinatown. and so my work experience, just next to picaddilly circus does, not only give me the necessary experience to have something written on my nra, but leave me with the taste of buscuits, chinese food, and being mildly amusing.

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Mexico [02 Jul 2004|12:08am]

[ mood | missing ]

You could see me reaching,
Why couldn't you have met me halfway?
You could see me bleeding,
But you could not put pressure on the wound.
you only think about yourself
you only think about yourself
you better bend before i go, on the first train to Mexico

You could see me breathing
but you still put your hand over my mouth.
your could see me seething
but you still turned your nose up in the air.
you only think about yourself
you only think about yourself
you better bend before i go, on the first train to Mexico.

BertiCollapse )

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songs [01 Jul 2004|05:50pm]


Those songs which hold the greatest memories of early years
and some that hold that trashy scent of which the 90s can only deliver

Smells like Teen Spirit/ Although released much earlier, doesnt it just transport you back to the grungy revolution that was year 8.

Teenage Dirtbag/ the anthem of the move from primary school to secondary, remember at your old school disco where everyone would join in on the girl part?

Pretty Fly for a white guy/ I bet this was one of your favourites when you started buying music. Every knew the words and the video and how many people owned the album along with greenday and sum 41? also revolves around year 6/7

Wannabe/ nothing more to say

Im too sexy/ who remembers was it the chewits adds with all the changed lyrics?
*im too sexy for my shirt too sexy for my shirt too sexy it hurts*
all my life- K-CI & Jo Jo
breakfast at tiffanys- Deep blue something
the drugs dont work-the verve

Movie songs
Always love you- the bodyguard
Bittersweet symphony-cruel intentions
my heart will go on- titanic
Bohemian rapsody-waynes world
can you feel the love tonight-the lion king
Dont wanna miss a thing-Armegeddon
Dude looks like a lady-Mrs doubtfire
Every you every me- cruel intentions
I believe i can fly-space jam
Love is all around- Four weddingd and a funeral
Wild,wild west-wild west
wise up-magnolia

oh ah just a little bit-Gina G
spice girls
savage garden
u cant touch this-mc hammer
ice ice baby- vanilla ice
all my life- K-ci & jo jo
the drugs dont work-the verve
everybody hurts-REM
girls and boys-blur
year 2000-pulp
hey boy hey girl-chemical brothers
funk sole brother-fatboy slim
kung foo fighting (remix)-fatboy slim
im horny-T mousse

hope that brought back memories
thats all i can remember but i have probably missed out loads

any more?



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Old Writings [29 Jun 2004|11:59pm]

[ mood | amused ]

I found some old things i wrote, from about two years ago, maybe a bit less. in my time frame they are a long time ago.

There are a few i want to share, but i might spread them out a little over a few posts (i may as well). They aren't very good, but this was when i was young- remember

Down The RoadCollapse )

My memory of that summer now is very similar to the one of _withbellson_
in my opinion, it may be completely different, but from the way she described it, thats how i remember it now.
Other things that remind me of that holiday are "vancouver" by jeff buckley, the whole of morning view by incubus, but especially i wish you were here and mexico. It also smells exactly like a certain kind of non oily suncream i used there. Coppertone. That brings it back all too well.
And next post i will talk about "mexico" by incubus, because that is a nice story, in my opinion.

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The Pogues. [29 Jun 2004|06:30pm]

[ mood | contemplative ]

Yesterday I heard an old Pogues song playing in Virgin and it bought back a lot of memories. Most of the songs that bring back memories remind me of a holiday, and so do The Pogues.
Every New Year we used to go away with family friends. Usually to Scotland or somewhere, where it was icy icy cold. And we would rent a cosy cottage in some village somewhere, go for long walks and return and go to the pub or lie cosied up by the fire, eating peanuts.
Me, Patrick [my brother], Ewan and Nancy used to put on plays for ‘the adults’. Once we did Aladdin, and I got to wear Nancy’s silk pyjamas to be the princess and I was so chuffed. It was so fun, it felt so professional at the time.
One time I was ill, and Patrick, Ewan and Nancy all went on a walk without me and came back telling me they had been shot by a farmer. The first thing I saw was red all down my brother’s arm and across his jumper. I remember crying and hearing the full story of how it happened. But, it was a joke, it was ketchup. I was so gullible, but I didn’t speak to them for ages.
I remember the smell outside of a wood fire, when you’re walking back from the pub late at night. The feeling of complete exhaustion after being dragged on a loong walk, cosy deep sofas, and trying my very best to keep my eyes open till 12 on New Years Eve, but being embarrassed when everyone tried to make me sing Old Lang Syne [sp?]. And playing charades in front of the fire, and my brother spoiling it for me when it was my turn by telling everyone what I was doing, he was so mean to me then.
Anyway, this is what I remember when I hear The Pogues. We used to listen to them on every car journey at New Years. I remember lying on my back in the back of the car and seeing Christmas lights flying past upside down outside, while listening to them. It also brings with it a little excitement of Christmas, I think I must’ve listened to a lot of it around Christmas also. Awh, they are funny people they are.

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[21 Jun 2004|09:02pm]
[ mood | nostalgic ]

If any of you are interested in perfume, you'd understand that many girls don't wear perfume because mainly, they all smell like old women.

On Valentine's Day of 2003, I had just finished a great day of school when my mother decided we should go to the grocery store. I didn't really want to go, but I figured it would be the least I could do - It was my parents' anniversary and I would be going out that night. So after an hour of browsing through the aisles, we finally arrived at the section I had been waiting for: Makeup.

As most of you know, the makeup aisle is more than just makeup...It has nail polishes, body washes, and anything else you could possibly want.

On this certain occasion, she became very interested in perfume. She told me to pick out a fragrance that we could share. She tried to suggest scents that she liked, but I was only half-listening to her comments when I saw it. Cherry Vanilla. I thought it was a strange name for a brand, but I had a feeling that I was supposed to have it. I didn't have time to take it out of the box and smell it, so I just placed it in the basket, and we went on about our errands.

That night, before I left for the evening, I opened the box. A clear bottle with swirly red lettering, and a mushroom-like red cap, filled with a glowing liquid that could only be described as Heaven.

I wore that perfume every chance I had. Every party, every dance, every date - always that particular scent. Nothing seemed to compare to it, and I never grew tired of it. I ran out at the beginning of last summer, but I haven't thrown out the bottle yet. I can still smell the perfume and remember the day my boyfriend asked me out; UIL competitions; Long days of Putt Putting followed by glasses of ice water out on a friend's porch. I can relate an overnight volunteer trip our National Junior Honor Society took. I can remenice to the time of my first kiss.

All from a single perfume that I bought without smelling.

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[21 Jun 2004|09:12pm]

[ mood | pessimistic ]

In year 7 I always used to wear this hair cream, it was fructis and smelt so beautiful, everyone loved it. But after a while they stopped selling it, and I was lost.
On the weekend finally I took advantage of my new boots special card and spent a lot, came across the same curling cream as before.
I remembered loads of memories because of it, like my friend Conrad stealing my fishnet gloves because they smelt of it so much from when I tied my hair back with my hands, and he cut the gloves up and gave bits to his friends. It was so funny to watch them smell the tattered remains even weeks after first cut, all the time, and to see Conrad's face light up whenever I said it was cute.
It made me sad because I never did anything like that to him, I don't even remember how his hair smelt! And if I went back in time, I don't think I'd take the time to savor friendships like mine and his, in terms or smells and sights. I'm more about feelings. And now I miss him, I bet he is never nostalgic about my hair..

Thankyou clanger for this community, it's such a nice idea!


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sensory memories [21 Jun 2004|03:40pm]

[ mood | taken back ]

the feeling of riding in the back seat of the old Chevy wagon, my bathing suit still damp and smelling of the river. i'm 8 years old and i feel immortal, perfect, unselfconscious. my limbs are delightfully heavy from swimming, hair is whipping in my face as the wind blows in from the open window, every inch of skin the sun can find is as brown as a walnut shell, and my eyelids are heavy. every once in a while they slip closed and i see dreamslices dancing behind my eyes. when i open them (just a smidge), i see green canopies of leaves and creamy yellow sun. rarely have i felt so alive, so safe, so pleased, so loved. i know that when we get into town, i will get french fries and an orange soda. i will savor the salty sting on my lips and wipe the sticky orange moustache on the back of my hand. i will grin shyly at the cashier and share the food with my sister without being asked. this is summer, this is living, this is perfect.

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'Cassya, whats 7 x 3?... Omgoood, your like toooo cleva!' [21 Jun 2004|05:40pm]


I dont know if im missing the point of this journal, but i thought i should perhaps give it a try....

Yesterday i was on the 319 to Streatham when i recognised the girl sitting opposite me. She had tatty blond-ish hair and little scabs on her face from spots that she had attacked all too enthusiastically. I noticed that, no, she hadnt got braces although, when i last saw her, she said she would. I wonder if perhaps she should have.

Her name is Chelsea. She used to be in my class in year five. Seeing her on the bus, although she didnt recognise me, brought back an awful lot of memories. Of when we would wear vest tops without bras - a bad decision. Of the first time any of us had 'proper'boyfriends (infact, her first boyfriend was a boy called james who, a year or so later, punched me in the face when i would not go out with him), ie a step up from the boys we 'went out' with in reception so we would be allowed to play thunderbirds. Of not needing to understand any of lifes intricacies because who expected a 10yrold to be tactful or insightful?

She also reminded me of Hanson, something that brings me directly back to year five.

Chelsea lived in a council house which was infested with rats. She called them her pets and pretended to us that they wanted the rats to live with them. I expect it was easier to handle like that. Her mum had mental difficulties, not disabilities, she was just overemotional and prone to outbursts. I never understood what it was like to have a mother like that. Her dad was violent with her younger brother, he was in Hals year. I will never understand what it is like to have a father like that.

So there we go, although i cant even remember her last name, and no doubt Chelsea didnt recognise me, this girl left me thoughtful and, yes, nostalgic all the way until charlottes dad fired an air ball at my neck with a golf club.

Sorry if that was wrong...

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I hate first posts [20 Jun 2004|11:27pm]

[ mood | accomplished ]

So new community, i thought i would start it off- say a few things.
So here i am. I love hearing about other peoples memories, their childhood, their teenage years especially. Theres something that has so much wonder and excitement in it, because the world is so new, you have to try everything. all your "first times" happen from the years 13-19. Those experiences shape you into who you want to be, who you become. The experiences and memories that you take from those years can either be your best friends or your worst enemies.
I want to hear yours. I want to hear about your first kiss, party, time being drunk, getting stoned, festival. I want you to post as soon as that song comes on that changed your life. The one that brings you back so many feelings and emotions of that point in your life and describe it so that everyone can know you a bit better.
I want to know about a shitty pop song from 1996 and for you to talk about an imaginary persons life that was deeply affected by that song and looks back on it now and remembers it. I WANT ANYTHING.
mixtapes, lyrics, icons, pictures.
I dont care. as long as they all mean something from the past.

and if you cant listen to Disco 2000 by Pulp and not know what i mean, then theres something wrong with you.

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