Today, I suppose because the days are starting to close in on me a little bit, I started thinking about all those sweet, half-lost memories that are now more snapshots of emotion than literal remembrances. More than anything, it's difficult to capture these moments because they mean nothing to anyone else - they're fleeting glances, aching thoughts of experiences that I know I'll never quite get back. Memories are funny things, really - even as I'm experiencing something, a moment of joy or despair, I know that I'll never be able to re-experience it. The moment is gone, it's fleeting, and although there will be happier and more despairing times to come, I find myself often very aware of this loss, if you will. Most often that feeling comes in relation to people, to relationships, as I consider the fact that a single moment is just that.
I don't mean that to sound nearly as fatalistic as it does, just to be clear. I think part of the beauty of life is looking back with melancholy but content eyes on these impressions. The moment that sparked all this contemplation was one from much earlier in the summer. I remember it being a drizzly, cool day - there was a time in the summer when it was still very cold, which looking back seems terribly odd - just a few days before the play opened. We walked up to the post office, shunning umbrellas, embracing the dampness soaking into our skin and hair. I can't describe exactly what it was that made it such a beautiful memory, but I remember everything just feeling right, feeling comfortable and new and wonderful all at the same time. And although I know that there will be many times like this, better times even, there's still some part of me that is sad for that time. One of a hundred different reasons why my New York experience has been deeply bittersweet.
Today my street reminded me of the impressions I have of San Francisco. Albeit the streets would need to be way rockier and skinnier to fit my memory, but the deep cloud banks against a dark grey sky with the rows of residences reminds me of a few of the images I have from San Francisco all those years ago. That probably sounds totally crazy to people who know both cities well, but something about the skyline today . . .
It occurred to me today that the smell of laundromats will forever remind me of New York. I was unacquainted with the idea of doing laundry outside of one's apartment until I got here, so the fresh concept of public laundry machines was directly linked with this new city. Even beside that, there is a distinct "laundromat" smell that permeates many of the parts of Brooklyn that I spend time in - Bay Ridge and Park Slope, to be exact. It's a chemical-y, soap-y smell, one that brings to my mind that glossy feeling on your hands after you've scrubbed something with bleach. I can't explain it well, but in some ways it encapsulates parts of New York's personality for me - this odd obsession with cleanliness in what is probably the dirtiest city in America (also notable within the food service industry, where all the health codes in the world can't make things any cleaner).
I Stumbled this website of unforgettable people the other day, which gave me interesting, uncomfortable ideas for how much I'd like to take pictures of some of the people I've seen this summer. The idea behind this website was that most people that we pass in a day we forget instantly - whether it's natural human instinct or whether they just seem uninteresting to us - so when the author came across people who caught her eye in a more lasting way, she took their portraits. It's a really fascinating idea, albeit a really intrusive one (and one which is clearly most interested hipsters, but that's a separate point). It in turn caught my eye, and made me really wish I'd have thought to (and had the guts to) do the same. I've seen some really fascinating people here - on the subway, on the streets, in stores, everywhere. An MTA worker riding on the subway today - an older Santa Claus-looking gentleman with suspenders and bright clear blue eyes - made me think of it especially. I wish I could sit these people down and steal a lasting impression from them.
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