Everything is all topsy-turvy. I don't know if is the economy, or my own personal circumstances, or what, but I keep asking myself this question:
Is 2009 really my 1991?
Let me explain:
This weird thing has been happening in the last couple of weeks. The weird thing is that, very suddenly, I have started to respond in a noticeably different way to hearing Nirvana on the radio. I have never been a huge Nirvana "fan". I do not own any Nirvana. There are a few songs on my i-pod, maybe. (I borrowed one of Blake's CDs, probably. The same way that H.I.M. found its way onto my i-pod.) Before three weeks ago, chances would have been even between me listening to something by Nirvana if it came on the radio, and turning to another station. But now, it's a sure thing that I am going to listen. There is upwards of an 80% chance that I will even turn it up. It's strange.
And the way I feel? Comforted. And not in a nostalgic kind of way. I'm not nostalgic about Nirvana. Comforted, and happy, as if I am hearing it for the first time and feeling really glad that it is in my life. As if it is something newly good--not oldly good. Which, again, is weird because I never thought it was that "good" to begin with. I mean, I think I have always been little more than indifferent to Nirvana.
How do I explain this? Well, I can't totally. But I have been developing a theory. In 1991 I was doing the following things: 1. learning to drive, 2. writing a lot of notes with multicolored pens, 3. applying to all-women's colleges, 4. picking out hair ribbons that matched my socks and turtlenecks, 5. leading a Camp Fire group--badly. I was also crying a lot, since one of my two best friends was moving to Norway (the one who was not Qwanty). Actually, come to think about it, I was crying a lot generally. I was one weepy teenager. I was also listening to a lot of Erasure and Kon Kan, thanks to Buzo-created mixes, and Music for the Masses over and over again. There was probably also a lot of Roxette and "Unbelievable" and "Groove is in the Heart" playing in my life that year too. (Camp dances. Pep assemblies. Car rides.) I knew that Nirvana was around, but it wasn't a big part of my reality. And I was not feeling particularly angsty, or angry, or disaffected. I was much, much too suburban and honor societied-out for that.
But now? Oh, G--. At 34 I think I'm turning into a 15-year-old boy. I am angry and I sort of want to break stuff. I think that no one understands me. I want to stomp around in heavy boots and clothing made for warmth-and-not-fashion and wear my hair over my face and draw disturbing images in a notebook that I carry around with me all the time. Well, maybe not really. But kinda. Enough that it actually feels eerily good to listen to a tiny blonde dead man scream lyrics that I mostly don't understand into my car.