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Back from the dead

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niqistar

Back from the dead

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A Libertines’ ten years reunion tour has saturated my Tumblr dashboard.  So baffled and bewildered is a fandom that had long since accepted their ship as sunk, they have entirely obliterated my daily dose of cats doing amusing things and Benedict Cumberbatch moving his face, with a sea of emotional outbursts and gif sets.

The frenzy of getting something they wanted so desperately has left them too paralyzed with the anticipation of disaster to feel the joy of getting what they wanted.  Perhaps I have found my spiritual fandom..  But how I long for a simple picture of a cat with an ironic caption.

Reunions are in the air.  Lost university and school friends are emerging from the dust.  Live Journal and me (don’t look at me like that, you didn’t write either).  Even Blue have got back together, despite promising Simon Amstell that they wouldn’t.


1. I am enjoying this trend of the missed culture of my youth coming back for a curtain call.  If my twenties were a write off, perhaps thirty will be the time when I can enjoy the things I should have enjoyed when I was fifteen.  I am always late.  If you are late enough, maybe time eventually catches up with you.

2. Perhaps the best thing I have ever been to was a Pulp reunion concert.  It was ninety minutes of acceptance and knowing all the words in a dark corner of my brain and not irrationally disliking the mass of sweating bodies pressed around me who probably also had boring teenage years and joy actual present in the moment joy.  It was a small glimpse at what adolescence could have been like, if I had read fewer books and left the house occasionally.  It would probably have been too much excitement for me to bear.

3. I don’t trust things that are happening now.  How can I possibly be expected to know how I feel about life while I am in it?  I haven’t had time to do the background reading.

4. I don’t understand people who live in the moment.  I live in Hounslow, and find that life is best appreciated in retrospect.  I mainly do things to generate material for my nightly slide shows of regret and social embarrassment.  Someone recently described my approach to life as pre-emptive regret.  Always be prepared.  (That’s the motto of the girl guides group I didn’t join because I worried I wouldn’t enjoy it.)

5. I tend to like things that are dead.  I do death for a living, in a quiet administrative capacity.  I enjoy my weekly coffee and browse through Funeral Times; my post is often blurry tombstone photo heavy.  I like my goth Marge Simpson wardrobe.  I like that there is a profession that suits my default expression; I like knowing the actual answer to the rhetorical ‘who died?’  I like the lack of urgency that comes from everyone already being dead.

These are the main reason I don’t join fandoms.  (Actually, the main reason I don’t join fandoms is probably the same reason I spent playtimes alone in the school library, but this sounds better).  Anything I take more than a casual interest in has usually ended years ago or is in its final death throes.  Or will be once I get my regret-sticky fingers on it.  Perhaps I am drawn to the delicious longing for something wonderful that has gone; perhaps I like the idea that the worst has already happened.


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