Belle and I have been mostly going down to the ball field lately. We found a new place by Joe Martin Field, where the Bellingham Bells play, that is usually deserted and full of sticks. Last night was two dollar tuesday, and the parking lot was full of people carrying camp chairs and coolers. Belle wanted to smell everything, and I felt self-conscious because I kept saying "Belle! Belle! Come on!" The game hadn't started yet but I wondered if people thought I was just ranting to myself about the home team.
I went to Value Village the other day, and I ended up buying nine CDs. My car stereo only plays CDs or the radio, so I always peek at the selection, and this time it was as if I was looking at my own collection from about 2006 or 2007 sprinkled into the chumbawumba and whatnot that I usually find. Deerhoof, 764-Hero, The Long Winters, Metric... some things that I let fall away and some that I still have but just ruined by packing them around with me to work. Here they are again, brand new and mirror-perfect. Listening to music that meant a lot to me at a specific time in my life is like looking at a snapshot of my mind back then, with the distance of all the years. I feel like I am seeing myself from above, and I finally understand the landscape that was around me. I wonder what I would've done with that map, if I'd had it back then. I never thought about the specific direction I was going. I guess if you'd asked me, I would have said that I was following my heart. I think it's more likely that I was just trying to hang on to whatever I felt like I slightly understood, or what understood me.
Or who understood me.