I think one of the reasons I love photography and music so much is because they can serve as a sort of time travel, which is another one of my obsessions.
Whenever I listen to music, it always takes me to a specific scene. Do you ever become nostalgic for a place you’ve never been? It’s sort of like that.
Whenever I hear “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” by the Allman Brothers Band, I’m laying on shag carpet in some dim room in the 70’s with incense going and huge headphones over my ears.
"America" by Simon and Garfunkel is doubly nostalgic for me because not only does it take me back to 2008, when my obsession with the movie Almost Famous began (the song is featured), but I can so clearly imagine riding cross-country on a bus with Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel in 1968. I can even feel the cool morning air and imagine what I’d see out the window.
There are so many examples, I’d go on forever.
Photos are my other favorite form of time travel. Of course, looking at them takes you back to a certain moment you may have experienced, but I’m talking about time travel in a different way. They can also take you back to moments that never happened in the first place. I say, If you can’t actually experience the time, at least you can pretend in photographs. This is why my best friend Jennelle is the perfect muse. You see, she’s a World War 2 reenactor, so we go back in time via photo shoots all the time.
(It’s not always the 40’s we visit, sometimes it’s a little earlier.)
I love Polaroids as a medium too because they are so nostalgic. Was this taken in 1976 or 2012? Exactly!
Here are the New Binkley brothers last year at the Hamilton County fair here in Chattanooga:
All that to say—until I can say “Hey! I have tickets to see the Beatles in 1965, wanna go?!” as I hop in my time machine, I will always have earbuds in my ear and a polaroid camera in my hand.
Moving always reminds you of how much crap you own, doesn’t it? I mean, kitchen stuff, bathroom stuff, electronics, DVDs, records, decorative knick knacks and tchotchkes, books, pictures, clothes, bags and purses, furniture, random papers…good Lord. Each time I move though, I consider it an opportunity to at least try to downsize, so it’s kind of nice.
I’m so excited, because I have been provided a wonderful roommate and a fantastic place to live, for two hundred dollars less that I was paying. It’s most definitely an answer to prayers.
I’m moving on September first, which is my favorite time of year—the start of autumn. I realize that September isn’t quite autumn, but I’m the kind of person that starts drinking pumpkin lattes in late August and looks forward to a corn maze every single year. Give me crunchy leaves, apple cider, and cardigans.
I always have. Moleskines, notebooks, diaries with locks, blank journal/sketchbooks…I even have a couple of pretty leather ones. The thing is, I never write in them. I love the physical act of writing—I’m an obsessive list maker—but I always wind up ripping out pages that I’ve tried to write on because I never know what to say. I’m never inspired.
I think it’s so cool how this clever, intelligent, eloquent writing just seems to flow out of some people. That’s why I’ve decided to make my life worth writing about—give myself something to say. Instead of saying “Oh man, I’d love to visit San Francisco soon. I have friends there.”, or “I wish I were more outdoorsy. I wanna go hiking and camping in the woods.”, I’m treating this journal as a promise to myself to stop talking and start doing. Heck, maybe I’ll even break down and write things on actual paper.