Times of Living at Home. | Squat the Planet

Times of Living at Home.

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kokomojoe

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I'm sure several of you have been at a place you call home and have made some heartwarming memories. This is something I wrote about how so much of what I've experienced fell apart and eventually led to the desire of hitting the road once more. Coming home seemed like a good idea at the time but that proved me wrong sooner than later.

The depressing nostalgia bites at my heels.I remember the times of hanging out with friends and manifesting the drug induced memories plated with gold. I remember feeling the bonds that seemed indestructible. However, people change into forms that seem so foreign as to what you're familiar with. I find myself sitting out in the cold listening to folk punk bands who are no longer together and drinking whatever beers I happen to find in my parents' fridge and embracing this drunken memorial to what no longer is. I wouldn't mind going back to what once was and manifesting the memories of the present mind, but the present will never revert to what it once was. It's currently a cyclone of trivial nonsense where nostalgia is nothing more but completely obsolete. The people I was once friends with are no different than strangers, the bonds I feel are attached only to the past and can never be found in daily sobriety. The destruction of which is the only gateway to pleasant memories that I no longer make. Everything seemed so real, so permanent, and most of all genuine. At this point in my life these events will never live up to once were, but rather be buried in my conscious and embraced just as the same as any fantasy. Nostalgia is a dirty liar that leaves you begging for memories yet makes you realize why they'll never be the same.
 

bystander

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. Nostalgia is a dirty liar that leaves you begging for memories yet makes you realize why they'll never be the same.

I find my self often thinking of the past- be it people, places, or thing; holding on to that moment my mind has tricked me into remembering at that particular moment.

These memories usually seem so happy.

Like, I'm remembering them and I'm happy.

I think my mind plays tricks on me. I remember so much of a particular time period in my life and long for the freedom, long for the friends, the girls, the drugs etc...

again, they usually seem so happy...

then a song comes on... (music is my shit) a whole album I choose to no longer listen to.

why?

because it brings me back to that same time period- in a different prospective...

I wasn't happy. I wasn't loving life. I was loving moments.

Moments that were so powerful that they have changed my prospective on life. My mind refuses to believe that, at that point in my life... I wasn't really happy

I believe I was,

--

Nostalgia is a liar alright.

but I think its the nostalgia that motivates me to try new things & to keep on keepin' on, new memories gotta trump old, right?

I've had the same group of friends for-ever. Way to fuckin' long- most are changing (or maybe I am?) and moving on, for better or worse. It used to bother me. Now I just reason with myself by remembering the past and lookin' forward to the future.

shits gunna change- its not up to me.

I like thinkin' & talkin' about life issues. Some real shit most people wouldn't dare to discuss.

take care man,
 
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iamwhatiam

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welcome to getting older. aint it a bitch
 
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creature

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a controlled environment.....?

like rocket motors???

guys, don't bemoan the past..
if all goes well, you get about 32 years of indestructibility..

the warranty is void the day after..

& VoodooWorm is correct & wise..

just light it the fuck up..

don't burn anything that isn't yer own, but.. enjoy..

bad ass promises make for bad ass joy, & broken bad ass promises make for bad ass sorrow..
the thing that sucks, perhaps worst of all, is how much freedom is taken from us, because if our youth weren't subject to the same sort of processes that produce canned ham & yellow fucking clown burgers, we would probably have seen our honor prevail, rather than fail against the chains of industrial employment
& the unrecognizable forms it forces us to take..

it used to be a young man could walk into harbor, ask for the master or captain & be laughed at, until he found a derelict to take him on & thus put his foot into the ladder..

today?

you have to help crucify christ to get onboard a ship..

everything really & truly changed with the advent of fucking wallstreet & corporate economics back in the early 1900's.. people not making money by work they did, but by manipulating the values of goods & commodities outside of their actual consumer market value..

i'm risking a digressive rant..

the point is that men cannot just go out & offer up their labor at things which challenge & risk, without a shitload certification, disclaimers & god knows what else that no fucking viking, sea merchant, explorer, cowboy or farmhand would ever, ever, *ever* fucking need..

light shit up & howl at the moon..

& even if it can't be a fucking bonfire, look at it, be warm & wish shit were different..
but be warm with what you hoped it *could* have been..

it doesn't mean you go back,
it just means you stay what you believed in..


peace, mofos..
 
F

Fanatical Steward

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"Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night."
I believe this quote generally provides a decent expectation for the outcome of many people on this board.
 

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