love is a battle

To Remember

I have close to 7000 pictures I have collected over the years. The documentation begins in late 2006, when I first got my Mac. I need to constantly switch things around into an external hard drive, and this includes music, movies, photos, comics, because I have no more space. Part of the reason why I document so much, is because I have this neurotic feeling that one day I will forget about beauty, I will forget about music, I will forget about love, and I must, I must, remember.

I’m not a big fan of putting it all up for the world to see, but to document with hard copy albums is something I do not have the time for. It’s so much easier to just snap pictures on the iPhone and put it up on Facebook. That said, my Facebook list from the all time high of 2000 people somewhere during the journalism years, has now been cut down to 300 plus. I figure if you haven’t talked to me in six months, you’re really not going to notice that I’m gone. Though sometimes, people do, leading to the kind of awkward conversations I have at parties about the people who’ve re-requested a friend request. Ahem. 

So yeah, I’m big on recording, documenting. I like to remember. Sometimes, it isn’t all that great. Sometimes, there are songs I cannot listen to (Best Friend, by the Perishers and Anna Begins, by the Counting Crows), entire albums I still cannot look at (December 2008 and the trip I fought so hard to have, only to be faced with the pregnant truth of who I had become), places I will not go to again even if you paid me (an East London restaurant, a wine bar in central London and that really odd smelling side street in Soho, where I first felt your hand on the small of my back), smells that make me want to cry (sandalwood and neem, Dunhill Blue), faces that remind me of people past (drunk vagrants that smell and speak in belligerent, whiskey soaked vowels), movies I cannot watch without getting weepy (usually foreign, the rounded syllables in Spanish or French) moments that make my face flush with embarrassment, and guilt (Stadium Seafood, KLCC after that huge fight we had and how you walked away without paying, and Titiwangsa Park at midnight with the police). 

Sometimes though, they are absolutely fucking hilarious. Like this one. 

Both were taken at the Lotus Temple, in India. Another positively amazing work trip. They were unposed, and sitting next to each other, waiting for the lines going into the temple to subside. And I was standing outside, barefoot and completely illuminated. I saw this, and snapped it as fast as I could.

Enjoy. 

Young Love, 2007. 

Old Love, 2007. 

That said, may the Fourth be with you. 

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