Timecapsule

Timecapsule

Physicists recently went public with the statement that time travel, the literal transportation of a physical body, in this four-dimensional space-time, is impossible. As corporeal beings we will only be able to move forward in time.

Check it out here, and then come back for coffee and grumbles.

What do I say to that? Bastards-sure, go ahead and poop on the parade, we don't mind. Obtained any more grant money to kill any more dreams and imaginations of low-brow public? How about space travel? Uh-huh...Lightsabers? Great. Well, keep it up, before long you'll have destroyed each and every hope of the Basement Dwelling Nerdoid Masses out there.

Yeah, have fun with that.

But, the above discussion doesn't seem to rule out some sort of ephemeral, psychic, or disembodied time-traveling, now does it? Hey, that may be safer anyway. If a time traveler is not made up of solid, crude matter while he/she is on Chronal Walkabout, the less likelihood of somebody stepping on a butterfly and irreversibly altering the future, yeah?

See, I time travel all the time. I seem to do much more of it as I now that I ever have before. Alas, I usually only do my time traveling from a seated position and seldom do I see the sun make a million passes in the blink of an eye, nor do I witness oceans rise and fall as I pass through each subsequent corridor. I travel back as an ephemeral creature, of thought and emotional, and more than just a smidgeon of gas.

At this point I fear I must also amend some statements I made regarding The Road Tape. I was pretty bald-faced in my determination that there were only two reasons for the genesis of the Road Tape-to either snare or share the affection of another. I must recant and amend. The Road Tape is also a time capsule. A time capsule of this nature can be given to you by anyone, anywhere, but preferably from a friend, and a dear one at that.

I was reminded of this shortly after I completed the previously mentioned blog.

I used to drive a well-maintained, 1985, Chevrolet Luv Pick Up Truck. The radio was shot, but the tape deck worked. I dreamed of installing a CD Player...but I dream on many things...

I seldom throw things away, especially compilation tapes of The Road and Mixed variety. I would actually look forward long drives in my Luv because it meant I could do a little time-traveling with my little shoebox of old cassette tapes. Tragedy struck when, while working the night shift at a certain hellish not-for-profit student loan guarantor some crack-baby-son-of-a-whore broke into my beloved toy truck and went for a joy ride, the police eventually recovered my ride my precious shoebox of ancient cassettes was missing, replaced by packet after packet of ephedrine-related cold remedies. I imagine that each of those precious cassettes had been chucked out the driver's window in a meth-addled frenzy, spreading them up and down the interstate.

Fortunately, I didn't leave a handful of my faves in the Luv at the time of the left. So, my time traveling became limited, but not put to an end.

Sorry, back to my point...

I have a Mixed Tape in my possession, entitled Moments of Male Bonding. Trust me, the title was nothing short of tongue-firmly-implanted-in-cheek. My dear friend, R'Chaard, compiled the tape. We'll call him thus due to his unending love of all things Trek or Trek-Related. R'Chaard--it sounds Trek-like, don't you think? I mean, it could be a Vulcan name or Romulan, yeah?

Bite me, who's telling the story, anyway?

I first met R'Chaard somewhere around 1985 (if memory serves). He is one of those most intuitive and intelligent people in my close circle. Yes, we bonded, and no, there was no drumming, chanting, or blooding. R'Chaard and I are still in touch; he's now a proud ex-pat, living with his male-companion-for-life-or-longer in the frozen wilds of Canada. I see him at holidays...the ones we celebrate in the states, at least.

The tracks found on Moments of Male Bonding are significant more due to their re-inscription of personal myth than anything else. The tracks are as follows...

Side A
-Language Is a Virus - Laurie Anderson
-Wildlife - The Talking Heads
-Don't Stand So Close To Me (1986 ReMix)
-Big Sky - Kate Bush
-The Boy In The Bubble - Paul Simon
-Don't Pay the Ferryman-Chris de Burgh
-Sledgehammer-Peter Gabriel
-Red, Red Wine-
-Tinseltown In the Rain - The Blue Nile
-The Flat Earth - Thomas Dolby

Side B
-Independence Day - CS Angels (AKA Comsat Angels)
-Tonight - David Bowie
-The Ghost In You - Psychedelic Furs
-Lovers In A Dangerous Time - Bruce Cockburn
-Burning Airlines Give You So Much More - Brian Eno
-Begin the Begin --REM
-Don't Fall On Me - REM
-In God's Country - U2
-We'll Be Together - Sting

The word eclectic does not describe...
Or, maybe it does.
To go into grand detail as to the personal significance of each song, and the spark of joy and recognition felt upon hearing each selection for the first time and why such feelings surfaced would take pages and pages and probably foil your patience with me for all time. Suffice it to say there are some definite favorites here, but that is not why this compilation is so precious.

R'Chaard, his room mate (a close friend of mine, going back to Junior High), myself and another mutual friend would spend many a night drinking beer, chain smoking, and yabbering on about everything and nothing. R'Chaard sat in lotus-position upon the floor, bulbous headphones clapped to his ears, a sward of vinyl spread about him in a wreath. He played DJ, and when R'Chaard played DJ, there were few beings in the universe more content. The rest of us would play board games like Trivial Pursuit, or haul out a massive collection of Lego bricks to see if we could construct some monument that included each and every piece found in that tattered box. Those were good times. The subject of the conversations are lost on the ether, but I can still go back to those moments and hear

"Que Es Mas Macho...Banana or Knife?" And chuckle.

Moments Of Male Bonding is comprised of tunes I would request during those long, smoky nights. Only a small portion of these tracks are of the tunes I consider as part of the aforementioned personal theme song canon. No, this collection is more of a time travel platform in and of itself. I listen to them as a whole, and I am spirited back to that claustrophobic apartment, the posters of Bogie and Bacall on the walls, the grotesque copper-burnished ceramic lamps, the clink of beer bottles, the haze of smoke, the sound of laughter that was high and long and so very free.

No, you can never go home again. But there moments, brief they may be, when you can at least stand on the threshold and call into the foyer. And, sometimes, if you are very, very, and you've booked your passage back through the right channels, someone will answer...

More Later,
Coletrane