Back to future nostalgia

On an island one subway stop away from the city lays the remains of 1967, the year the world turned its eye on Montreal. Built for Canada’s first world fair, the sparkling white dome that is the Biosphere is one of the last Expo 67 structures still standing.

As I wrote last summer in  Marketing, On April 27, 1967, nearly 700 million television viewers and radio listeners tuned in as reporters broadcast the opening day of Canada’s first world fair.

The six-month fair was an optimistic time for the nation and for Montreal, the host city. Sixty-two countries and a handful of businesses set up pavilions showcasing the best new technologies from around the world. Celebrating its 100^th birthday that year, Canada’s future seemed undeniably bright.

Optimistic as we were, the future failed us. As the historian Pierre Berton put it, 1967 was Canada’s “last good year.” After Expo was the oil shock, separatism, local terrorism from the FLQ, and massive economic decline. 

So much for the future. Still, standing in the centre of the dome with wind blowing through the Biosphere and across the frigid observation deck, it’s hard to think Expo wasn’t worth it. The mid-day sun is obstructing everything, so I squint and snap one last photo. Then I take the elevator down and walk out wishing I could slip into the alternative future the architects had imagined.

Friday Night Lights

Like an abandoned puppy, the city follows him. And with each move, moving seems more implausible. The growing stack of long-distance phone bills collects dust in the drawer next to hand-written birthday cards he refuses to throw out.

His mind never leaves the drawer. Even and especially when he drinks, the space inside his skull is trapped between two thin panes of glass, holding a picture in its frame. The piles of photographs, books and magazines grow like the moldy plates of leftovers his parents found months after he vacated the room in their basement.

Click. Capture. Repeat. The website reads: take more photographs. Another night, another stack. But even as new faces glow off the screen of his digital camera, the same framed city watches him fall asleep each night, like the puppy he can't stop loving.

This is my reaction to being punched. This is Zach's reaction to my being punched. Circa 2004.

Boys Night Out-I got punched in the nose for sticking my face in other people's business is the first song I'm putting on my playlist for my trip home. I plan to listen to each song in a very specific place in Manitoba. This band put out two terrible records, but recorded two very specific great songs that bring back amazing memories.

Long titles that don't-mean-anything-but-sort-of-mean-a-lot please me. They remind me of the days before Ashlee Simpson had heard of Fall Out Boy. Also, this title is special because it actually happened to me.

In high school I made a girl cry one night when I had been drinking and didn't think much of it. A few days later her boyfriend found me and forcefully shoved his knuckles into my face. It wasn't until my friend threatened him with a skateboard that he backed off. I was stunned the entire time; I hadn't even set down my beer. But I learned an important lesson that day: make friend's with anyone who skateboards.

Time Machine.

Ultra Short Term Nostalgia: Homesickness for the extremely recent past: "Things seemed so much better in the world last week."

I want to skip out on work and spend the afternoon in bed reading Generation X, again.