Ministry Nostalgia Tuesday

Since last week I've been getting a little nostalgic.

When I get this way- typically an annual event- I would post something maudlin about my soldiering days, and the good times and the high adventure (or what passed for it in Cold War Bavaria) and the lost opportunities that can put me in a days-long funk if I dwell on them. A recent article in Stars and Stripes about the few remaining US casernes in Germany, casernes that I once knew well, might have been enough to do the job. I mean, imagine your college, for example, which you were anxious to leave yet to which you grow more attached over time; where you learned hard lessons about, well, everything- chicks, drugs, booze, probably some art, literature, cars, debt, dealing with pricks- lessons that could only be learned in that place. And then imagine that your cherished alma mater is being sold and will never again be yours. It can be tough.

And you know, I did get nostalgic. A little.

But instead of the cloying post about lost innocence, leavened with the cynical asshole-ishness characteristic of much of my writing, I got to thinking instead about other things that are gone, in a sense, yet still remain. I got to thinking of music in that way, probably because of recent Ministry musical postings, and that brought me in turn to what Johno once deemed "chronological vertigo".

Chronological vertigo is the appreciation of timespan between a chosen point in spacetime and the present. But it's much more than understanding what a decade is, or a century, or a lifespan, or any other stretch of consecutive elapsed time between two points. It is understanding, even feeling, the relationship between that elapsed time and today; between then and now.

Consider some musics that are 30 this year: Kill City; Decade; Animals; Never Mind the Bollocks... The distance between those records' release and now is nearly the same as between them and the end of WW2. Next time someone mentions the Sex Pistols, consider that they are the halfway point between now and VJ Day.

Or what about Star Wars? The original is 30 years old now. If you were thinking about movies that were 30 years old while you happened to be waiting to see Star Wars, you might be thinking about The Secret life of Walter Mitty, or any of a dozen crummy westerns. But look- the difference between the release of Star Wars and today is probably longer than it was between the establishment of the Empire and the umasking of the Sith Lord, until the destruction of the second Death Star and the establishment of Endor as a martial power.

Think about *that*.

Posted by GeekLethal GeekLethal on   |   § 8

§ 8 Comments

3

Actually Noory is a very skilled interviewer, with a great radio voice to boot. You never really get too close to how he feels about some of the nuttier people/topics on his show, but does great at getting them to unspool.

Actual, living physicists and other science-y types are not infrequent, but frankly it's the kooks that make for the best radio.

You gotta get a subscription, bro- the shows are great listenables whilst working.

5

Indeed it did/does. I felt that Kurzweil beat me over the head with his tables in the earlier chapters- the point stands up fine without all the graphics.

I think I might read it again in another year or so and see how we're doing.

Btw did you read "The Road" yet? 1/3 of the Ministers have, and so far none of that number have killed themselves afterward.

8

Chronological vertigo is a great phrase, all hail Johno!

I get that feeling at the drop of the hat. As I slide ever closer to 40, it's almost a daily occurrence. I suppose most people need a large precipice of time to trigger it, or at the very least coming upon a ledge unawares. A sudden view of a height that under normal circumstances would not trigger the reaction, well, it can get you.

Me, though, I guess I have the chronological version of acrophobia. Small heights freak me out. Whenever someone says "I can't believe it's 2007! OMG!" I generally respond, "I can't believe it's Saturday." They generally think I'm joking, or mocking them. While that is a reasonable supposition, it is however wrong.

I can look back at last Monday and feel that a vasty gulf has opened up. Looking back at High School or college is often too painful to do for long, or at least not with good company and lots of beer. Not because of the foolish things that I did - though I did many - just the gulf of time that I am never able to get my head comfortably around.

This may seem odd to anyone familiar with my love of history. There, I imagine the love is in part a reaction to the vertigo - like easily scared people who love to watch horror movies. And even stranger is my love of the future, which if things happen the way I imagine or even hope will make the gaps bigger yet faster.

But then I've always known I was a weird guy.

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