The Wrong Kind Of Nostalgia?

I should really be doing something more worthwhile than writing this blog entry, you know. Like drawing up another grocery order for dispatch tout suite. There's virtually no chocolate in the house, and virtually no alcohol save for one bottle of cherry beer which I really want to give to Groupie. Naturally I am aware of the fact that chocolate and alcohol are not the two most important food groups...

What I have been doing is messing around with my "alien's greatest hits" playlist at the bottom of this here blog. You may notice it's been changed and extended slightly - in fact I've been adding a track every day, near enough. Not always from the 1980s either :) What I should be doing is adding the latest track to the start of the list, but YouTube has a bit of a problem with me doing that for some reason, so I'll just stick them at the end and then re-order the list roughly every quarter-moon, so you don't have to page through dozens of tracks to get to the new stuff. (And there could well be dozens on that list eventually, knowing me!)

Someone said something to me a few days ago regarding the music of the 1980s which made me stop and think. "I find it difficult to listen to these songs" they said, "because they remind me of my childhood when everything was happy and anything seemed possible. Now I'm grown up and so many things seem impossible now, and I know I can't ever go back there again." I told them that they should be thinking differently - not crying because something was over, but smiling because something had happened, to quote one of my favourite Twitternauts. But you know, maybe they have a point.

Today while walking down the street I heard a loud happy scream as a car pulled over, containing three young women. They were picking up a fourth gal who was waiting by the side of the road. They all drove off, no doubt to have lots of fun over the Easter weekend. As they drove away, I got a feeling not unlike the person mentioned in the last paragraph. I've not been involved in that sort of thing for quite a while. But then I've always been solitary in nature I suppose. I care little for going out clubbing it amongst the people who usually populate the places around here anyway - dripping in fake bling and not knowing how to handle their drink properly. It seemed different in my early 20s. The music was a darn sight better for a start :) But then, I'm not the target market anymore, am I?

And I've found myself looking at old Top Of The Pops programmes and movies from the 1960s and thinking "it seemed even better then". Even though I know that's all make-believe and real life was only like that for the lucky few - and if I was around then I'd probably have been working in some dreary factory and coming home to my parents house arguing about Mary Whitehouse and Harold Wilson - it still seems better than the reality of my life at the moment.

Then again, isn't that what TV and films are for? To escape? And don't most of us, as the famous quote goes, "live a life of quiet desperation?"

Zog, this is depressing me. Time to wind this entry up I think before I lose focus completely. There's a packet of brandy flavoured coffee in the kitchenette. I'm gonna open it and watch some more old clips I think :)