Recently I have again been thinking back on my frequent trips to London this spring and summer... the truly amazing times I had visiting Alisdair (& Tom). It now seems like a very encapsulated period - so remote and yet so vivid still. Its soundtrack is Pink's I'm Not Dead (and this is also what has made me think of it again).
I mourn those times, I truly do. I know, rationally, that they weren't always that rosy, that I was often upset or confused. I'm idealising retrospectively, but so what? It's better to hold on to the good memories than to dwell on the bad, right? (and God knows I'm an expert at that.)
I know what I had then can never be repeated. Things have changed. This is infinitely sad, tho it was a long time coming I guess. But I recognised something else tonight: for years I used to think of the very first squiZZvisits to Luxembourg as the best times I ever had with him - often it seemed as if it only went downhill from there.
But I think I can say now (I haven't yet decided for sure) that this summer, generally speaking, topped those. And this is strangely comforting - I/we still managed to get something truly great out of our friendship, after all the shit and hassle. Even if, in the end, I realised that on average it probably causes me too much hurt to make it worth it. (but this too is something I haven't yet decided for sure - which is why I'm still here I guess, thinking out loud. heh.)
I can't decide... is this a positive entry, or a negative one?