Whenever a book I’m reading mentions nostalgia it’s to point out that nostalgia is bad. I just finished Recursion by Blake Couch, which was absolutely wonderful, but he’s in the nostalgia-is-bad-camp. I guess if you completely surrender to it, that’s bad, but a little nostalgia indulgence is okay … right?
I recently posted a picture of a speaker in the sub-basement of the ASPCA that took me back, and below is a shot of more old-time speakers that I pass by on my way to work. It’s a display window in the store at the Times Square Subway Station.
About twenty feet from this window is a Hare Krishna guy who sings that damn song, “Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare …” every damn morning. I keep worrying that it will become a brain worm, but then it occurred to me: this guy has sung this mantra so many times he must have carved it into his brain by now. He probably hears it in his head day and night, every single second, ceaselessly, unendingly. Poor guy. But maybe it brings him peace.