(no subject)

[proximoception]

Nostalgia's the come and go chemical that makes you miss all the past at once. It's like in A Christmas Carol when he looks in all the lit windows of the families while outside in the dark and snow. Except, with nostalgia, it's you and yours in each of those rooms, and for the most part in much better shape.

(When you ignore the plot specifics that story is astonishingly Wordsworthian. Falls into blank verse left and right, even. Something in it's greater than itself.)

Though there are other kinds, for the future, for remote or inaccessible modalities of the present.

Nostalgia hits at weak points, usually. It's an entirely different world from when you're strongest. The strong are always embarking, they devour so much of the country that they have no trouble at all with how much they can't have. They like that even, are friends with it, greet it. Nostalgia's hungers and envies are so intense they burn out at once. Each window goes black. But another lights up. Only way to deal with it's to sleep it off, like a migraine.

It's a way to stay lazy, but then what isn't. We don't even have a word for that concept, it so much overapplies. New work, faces, places cure nostalgia. Anything where your limbs and the world's are in contact--textures remind your skin where it ends. Anything where attention's turned out of doors.

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Upstairs...

[nightspore.livejournal.com]

...the windows will be lighted, not the rooms.