Gothtober 2017 – 12th of October / VNV Nation – Darkangel

You’ve now listened to two VNV Nation remixes in a row.
It’s time to close the circuit and go to the source.

And here, I present you the one song that made me a VNV Nation fan in 1999. And a fan I still remain, even after me and Ronan and Mark all ageing, growing and changing. But while I do appreciate, like and at times love their new stuff… Well. As I said before: Emotional memories and strong reactions do tend do form during tumultuous times and around heightened hormonal levels.

In 1999, I was 16.

Trying to write about it all now, about the people I knew, the women I crushed and fell for, the friends I had, the concerts and parties and hangouts I visited, the places I hung out at… The memories I made. … Trying to write about all that is painful now.

Because, as for probably most of you, time marches on. The past never comes back. And while I’m still friends with quite a few people from around then, I’m not in contact with all any more. Some just moved away too far, too early. Some changed in directions I couldn’t compensate for. For some I did the same. And some… Some are quite simply lost. Forever.

Yes. Yes, I do miss those times.
Not for having been young.
But for the moments I experienced.

All those summer nights just spent hanging out with friends in a good bar, or at a park. Hugging. Cuddling. Talking. Oh, gods, the /talking/. About everything. Literally, everything. There was no shame, no fear, no anxiety. We opened up to each other completely.

I once was driven to a party hosted by a girl I had a huge crush on. Driven by the guy dating her. She knew about my crush. He knew about my crush. Everybody knew about my crush. Because we talked. Shared. Discussed. Always tried to understand.

There was trust, between all. Deserved trust.

That girl? She once spent the night at my place after she miscalculated and wasn’t able to catch a bus. Her boyfriend didn’t mind. She didn’t feel unsafe. And all we did was that I offered her my bed while I slept on my floor. And when she woke up because of a nightmare, I swept my sleep away, got in beside her into bed and just… Hugged her. Held her. Comforted her. Until she fell asleep again. And me shortly afterwards. When we woke up the next morning, she groggily looked at me, and hugged me again, for a long time.

And then we spent a magnificent day together. Me, her, her boyfriend and two friends.
We played Mage: the Ascension for 10 hours straight the following night.

It was… Just that kind of weekend.
And it was the weekend I first listened to Darkangel.

Is it any wonder I love that song so dearly?

Here you go.
A small insight into my past.

A small insight into what I mean, when I give Neil Gaiman’s most wonderful and most amazing toast:

β€œTo absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due.”
― Neil Gaiman, Season of Mists

And we’re in the season of mists, again. As we were last year, and as we will be next year.
But the memories we create this season, will be their own. And recede back into their own mists with time. As those of next year will. And the one after that. Until the sun collapses.

Sometimes memories hurt.
Even the sweet and tender ones.
Because you’ll never be able to truly experience them again as you did that one time in the past.

And still, there’s only one lesson to be learned from all this:

Onward now and on forever and onward now…
All great things to come.

Never stop.
Never fall back into the trap of all-consuming nostalgia. Into the trap of the deepest, blackest, most miserable weltschmerz there is: Self-pity for moments gone.

Always strive to experience new, great moments.
Never stop.

Nowhere in particular, a collection of Memories. 2017.

Nowhere in particular, a collection of Memories. 2017.

Holy fuck is Empires /still/ an amazing album…

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