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  • Bradley McDevitt

The Nostalgia of Unremembered Futures



These two young English travelers posted a video of an arrival, travel, and experience in their premier North American visit. The entire movie pushed so many buttons in my lived memories: train travel, the majesty of new moments, the soul-crushing weight of distance from home, and the salty-sweetness of the candy smooth present in unfamiliar places.


The soundtrack was a beautiful mishmash of indie, folk, and the obligatory Simon & Garfunkel classic, America. The wistful notes of that song, in particular, must strike a chord with millions of travelers who pushed around on this hypochondriac continent, convinced of its many identities and afflictions, infecting each of us with the peculiar symptoms with each new destination we make. The upshot of the entire thing; I want to write again.


So, I am making a blog. This is new. Well, not really. I enjoy writing, and I've written you, (the invisible reader,) in the not so distant past. But now I have much to confess, to convey, and to convince. (I apologize, but this will happen a great deal. I will amuse myself with language at your expense.)


I will write about school, (I am enrolled as a grad student at Pacifica Graduate Institute, studying Archetypal Depth Psychology and Creativity. Yep, there's a degree for that.) I will write about creativity–if you've looked at my site, you likely have some ideas about my ambitions in that realm. I will also write poetry, prose, fantasy, angry rants about whatever bites my nose at any given time. I will take requests. Ah, Dream A Little Dream of Me by the Momas & the Popas just started playing in the background. I take that as a good omen.


So bring your best chair, your comfy sweater, your tea, your coffee, your good moods, your chagrined, maligned aggravation, your beatific, holier-than-thou, smug self-satisfaction, and rest assured I will meet you where you are. It will be my pleasure and privilege.


I remain,



Bradley



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