Nostalgia, Depression and 600 West

This is a repost of a blog I wrote on myspace about a year and a half ago. As I use that blog less and this one more, I wanted to make sure it was easily accessible to me.

 

As a pretty copacetic young man, I don’t find myself depressed very often. If I do, it’s usually caused by boredom and an abundance of time to think about the state of my life and would more accurately be described as “bummed out” than depressed. Last night, I found myself pacing around my room with nothing to do and I began to doubt every little thing I’m doing with my life. Is that what depression is? I’m not exactly sure.

In any case, the feeling was short-lived and these nights always turn into maudlin displays where nostalgia completely takes over me. I’ll begin to think of something from my past and wonder if things will ever be as good as they were then. High school, college, post-college, relationships, summers, whatever it may be that at that time seems like the high point of my life. And last night I began to get wistful for 600 West Street in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.

I spent three years living in a dump of a house off Broad St. where we were robbed twice, regularly accosted by a drunken neighbor, abused by blistering summers and frigid winters, and my car was the hapless victim of two hit and run incidents during the span of two weeks parked out in the front. But I also spent my time there becoming hetero life partners with three of the greatest guys in the world- Aaron Katz, Marc Ripper and Brendan McFadden. I’ve come to the conclusion that these guys and this house are 75% of the reason why I’m the man I am today, for better or worse.

I can list off a thousand memories that can turn any depths of despair into a smile. Playing the sock game, getting coke and a donut, driving around listening to Enrique Iglesias, Martha finding Aaron’s porn, Brendan being attacked by a flying rodent, Marc’s grandma’s pierogis in the freezer, twelve packs of Sam’s Cola in the fridge, and someone always aimlessly wandering into someone else’s room to bother them. I miss the gang over in New York and I hope they’ll come and visit me soon because Marc is gonna be married before we know it and then all hope is lost.

The pictures below may not look like much to somebody reading this, but they mean the world to me.

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One Response to Nostalgia, Depression and 600 West

  1. agentsunshine says:

    How touching. In all seriousness.

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