February and March 2017
The last months were weird. It wasn’t terrible, but not great either. Just kind of stucked in the middle, I was struggling to find meaning. It happens even when you’re ok. But it also passes, always. I have this thing in me that won’t let me take the time to feel cozy in my sadness. Even if I really want to give up, I can’t do it. It’s like loving someone and not being capable of staying angry at them. That’s how I feel about life.
I’m in the tram, and I’m finally listening for the first time to Jamiroquai’s new song. I decide I like it, and as I look through the window it makes me think of how it will inevitably be in the soundtrack of my (early?) Melbourne life.
Then I start thinking how actually this band takes part in every different chapter since I discovered them when I was about 11 years old. When I used to spend time in my brothers’ rooms going through their collections, they always had such great taste in music. I became obsessed with Travelling Without Moving. When I listen to it now, I can really feel even for a second the way I felt back then, when everything about life was exciting, when the future was a promise and I couldn’t wait to grow up and be as cool as my brothers and their friends.
Like when I hear to the Asteroids Galaxy Tour and I can see myself walking the streets of Berlin, when I had just moved there and I was lost in the streets of my new city almost as much as I was lost in my life.
Nirvana, Pixies, Elastica… To me, it’s the closest thing to a time machine. The way some songs can create a reaction in my body that feels like transporting me for an instant to a time or even a specific moment in my memory, which by the way it’s kind of bittersweet. Because I like to go there, I just hate I can’t stay longer, reality pulls me back into the present time way too fast.
“- So, what do you feel like doing tonight?
– I don’t know, what do you feel like doing tonight?”