beauties can die

Today was bright and sunny again, my office bathed in light. I’m working on a couple of scholarship apps that I hope to get in by their deadlines. My recent nostalgia binge in light of my newfound life orientation (see: post-marriage quarter-life crisis-cum-epiphany at nearly twenty-seven) has led me to a set of albums that remind me of one of the most intense, visceral periods of my life: late summer/early fall 2008.

Then, I lived entirely alone in apartment for the first time, I started Steel Bananas, I met Curran, and we’d stay up late and blast shoegaze and electronic dreamscapes for privacy from his housemates. One of those albums was M83’s Dead Cities, Red Seas, and Lost Ghosts from 2003. When I hear the first track, “Birds,” I am immediately transported back — me, all short hair, broke, twiggy skin and bone, septum piercing, tattoos, and hunger; him, all long blonde hair, record collection, guitars, trumpets, and stevie wonder shirts. It’s not the sort of nostalgia that makes me wish I was back there — oh my, I definitely don’t — but one that allows me to mythologize myself back into the present, reminding me how miraculous growth really is. Here’s the final track, “Beauties Can Die,” and photo of me taken by Curran today.

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