R
randude101
Flashbacks, a moment in time.
What is a flashback?
To me it is remembering something that happened of substance. Not just remembering, but day-dreaming and allowing myself to be in the dream. Remembering the time and following the whole journey back through the event. These kinds of things bring a long sought smile to my face and possibly a verbal chuckle.
Some use flashbacks in a negative way. Don’t take that drug or you will have flashbacks.
All of my flashbacks have been good ones, so maybe Timothy Leary was correct all along.
Getting older has to be the suckiest thing in living. I am 48, and although I am told to be looking much younger than that, I am still that age. And the age comes in spurts too. I will go quite awhile bragging about my youth to my much younger wife, and then find the population of gray hairs on my goatee of double. I have taken to the whole, almost-no-hair look too. I cut my own hair with an electric trimmer set at ¼ inch. I cut it every week. I have been doing this for years now. I have not idea what my hair would look like now if I grew it out, so I don’t. I know I can get laid by a stranger still, right now, but for some reason prefer to not. Just knowing I can is good enough for me now, where a few years ago I felt I needed to prove it in deed. And being able to even say that is one of the reasons that getting old sucks.
In a flashback that I had today I remembered a time when I was going to college, early 80s. I had gone to a wedding with one of my oldest school chum friends, a female named Dena. If you ever see the movie Blow, with Penelope Cruz, you know Dena. Pretty, wild and type AAA personality. She married my all time best friend for my whole life, Jeff.
So Dena and I go to this wedding together because we were all friends of the couple getting married. Our significant others were busy or working so we went together. We get lit up pretty good in the parking lot of the old church on some of the Skunk Bud going around at the time, and I remember thinking at the time it was a bad idea. When we were set at our pew we were pretty high.
The wedding starts off with this minister telling his views on the two living together before getting married being so wrong, and how the female should be ashamed of herself. He thanked god that she had finally come to her senses and he expected a lot more from her in the future. It was kind of a buzz kill, but not technically.
Next this chick comes to the stage and starts singing some kind of religious song. Lots of vocal exercises, but she definitely had the proper lung capacity, as she was stretching the buttons on that cheap polyester dress. Her high notes must have bothered others as well, and indeed a baby started screaming it’s lungs off in time with the singer. Instead of taking the child outside, the guardian held the baby high at arms reach and started shaking it. I was starting to feel overcome with the situation and I looked over to Dena. Dena was leaning down with a tissue to her eye and hiding her face. When she seen me looking, she dropped the tissue a bit so that I could see from the side that she was laughing and covering her face. I must have made some kind of strange face, because her laughing increased and she was shaking the pew a bit.
I had an overwhelming rush overtake my body, the combined sites, the weed, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I had no tissue to hide behind, and I could not even fake crying really. I laughed. It was huge. I let out a huge laugh and then tried to contain it with my hands and spit on all those in front of me.
Nobody looked. Nothing was said. Life went on.
What is a flashback?
To me it is remembering something that happened of substance. Not just remembering, but day-dreaming and allowing myself to be in the dream. Remembering the time and following the whole journey back through the event. These kinds of things bring a long sought smile to my face and possibly a verbal chuckle.
Some use flashbacks in a negative way. Don’t take that drug or you will have flashbacks.
All of my flashbacks have been good ones, so maybe Timothy Leary was correct all along.
Getting older has to be the suckiest thing in living. I am 48, and although I am told to be looking much younger than that, I am still that age. And the age comes in spurts too. I will go quite awhile bragging about my youth to my much younger wife, and then find the population of gray hairs on my goatee of double. I have taken to the whole, almost-no-hair look too. I cut my own hair with an electric trimmer set at ¼ inch. I cut it every week. I have been doing this for years now. I have not idea what my hair would look like now if I grew it out, so I don’t. I know I can get laid by a stranger still, right now, but for some reason prefer to not. Just knowing I can is good enough for me now, where a few years ago I felt I needed to prove it in deed. And being able to even say that is one of the reasons that getting old sucks.
In a flashback that I had today I remembered a time when I was going to college, early 80s. I had gone to a wedding with one of my oldest school chum friends, a female named Dena. If you ever see the movie Blow, with Penelope Cruz, you know Dena. Pretty, wild and type AAA personality. She married my all time best friend for my whole life, Jeff.
So Dena and I go to this wedding together because we were all friends of the couple getting married. Our significant others were busy or working so we went together. We get lit up pretty good in the parking lot of the old church on some of the Skunk Bud going around at the time, and I remember thinking at the time it was a bad idea. When we were set at our pew we were pretty high.
The wedding starts off with this minister telling his views on the two living together before getting married being so wrong, and how the female should be ashamed of herself. He thanked god that she had finally come to her senses and he expected a lot more from her in the future. It was kind of a buzz kill, but not technically.
Next this chick comes to the stage and starts singing some kind of religious song. Lots of vocal exercises, but she definitely had the proper lung capacity, as she was stretching the buttons on that cheap polyester dress. Her high notes must have bothered others as well, and indeed a baby started screaming it’s lungs off in time with the singer. Instead of taking the child outside, the guardian held the baby high at arms reach and started shaking it. I was starting to feel overcome with the situation and I looked over to Dena. Dena was leaning down with a tissue to her eye and hiding her face. When she seen me looking, she dropped the tissue a bit so that I could see from the side that she was laughing and covering her face. I must have made some kind of strange face, because her laughing increased and she was shaking the pew a bit.
I had an overwhelming rush overtake my body, the combined sites, the weed, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I had no tissue to hide behind, and I could not even fake crying really. I laughed. It was huge. I let out a huge laugh and then tried to contain it with my hands and spit on all those in front of me.
Nobody looked. Nothing was said. Life went on.
