Suffering the other night through Gus Van Sant's interminable film, Last Days--a flick that reimagines the final march to suicide by a Kurt Cobainish depressive rock star, and a movie so slow-moving that even the usually patient WS had to watch it, in part, on fast-forward--I found myself indulging in that old memory game, "Where were you when...," applied this time to Kurt Cobain's famous moment of celebrity seppuku in early April of 1994. I can remember exactly where I was, lying on the couch in my mother's living room, twenty years old, and suddenly stunned by a report of the story on ABC's World News Tonight. But from there, the memory prompt took me on a broader return to 1994, and made me meditate on the key minutiae and tangible details (a la Proust's madeleines) that defined the year for me.
So, indulge me, when I tell you that for me 1994 was:
- A blue hardcover copy of Russell Noyes's English Romantic Poetry and Prose, from which I read Keats's letters for an undergradate paper.
- Crusty garlic rolls from an Italian bakery on the south side of town that a friend and I made a special trip to fetch for lunch one afternoon.
- Keith Jarrett's At the Deer Head Inn, listened to on low volume while sleeping on the couch in the air-conditioned cool of my mother's basement on the hottest days of summer.
- Rickard's Red beer, consumed by the pitcher.
- A navy blue wool cardigan sweater vest that I wore till it pretty much fell apart. And a navy blue sweatshirt with the name of my undergrad school across the chest that shrunk way too much after the first washing.
- John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath, which I finished reading one day in late summer at around 6 in the morning when--sadly--nobody was awake to talk to about it.
- Robert Altman's Pret-a-Porter, which I saw by myself at the movies a few days after Christmas, and which left me sorely disappointed.
And what, may I ask, was 1994 for you?
5 comments:
Hell, talk about transition years! I'd dropped out of university and transferred credits to a small near-to-home college because I was seriously depressed over the break up of my 3 year relationship and quit before I flunked out - so lame, yeah? Saddest part was when my dad asked me "Did you quit because of me? Have I been too hard on you?" I burst into tears from the immesnse guilt. He never knew the truth.
While messing about on the IRC and newsboards, I met my future husband. We e-mailed a lot, both graduated that summer and met for the first time, We we're engaged by Christmas.
And, considering it's 11 years later and we're still super-happy and all of that, seems like the transition guy won for once. But don't tell him I called him "Transition guy" it's just a joke between us.
Musicwise - I have Better than Ezra, The Gin blossoms, Toad the Wet Sprocket and a dozen more. I played a lot of 10000 Maniacs and Pearl Jam OH and Sherrilyn Crowe's album came out that summer didn't it?
1994... wow, I've been staring at the screen trying desperately to remember anything worth repeating from 1994. i would have only been out of high school for one year, and was still under the ploy that i "planned to go to college after a couple of years."
i moved to Washington State in January of '94 (I had previously moved from Oklahoma to California immediately following graduation.)
actually, i know why 1994 doesn't leave a lasting impression in my mind. it was the calm before the storm. i think the shock of april 19, 1995 (when the Murrah building was bombed in OKC) wiped out the innocence of '94. that doesn't totally make sense, but it seems to be what has happened. hmmm, i'm not sure i'm ok with that.
Love this post. 1994 was meeting my semi-serious college boyfriend - the one I didn't marry. Listening to Green Day and driving around Nutley, NJ with said boyfriend. Finally figuring out the difference between Nirvana and Pearl Jam after Kurt Cobain's death. (I was embarrassingly late to the grunge music scene, too busy listening to the alternative-that-moved-into-pop-music of the day - Think "When you come back to me" and "Stay" and the entire Reality Bites soundtrack.)
1994 was saying goodbye to one boy I thought I loved and meeting another who was good to me. Seeing my godson turn one. Bonding with my college friends. Acting in a play for the first time. Getting my tonsils out. Having my hair cut off right before my passport picture. Spending time with my extended family. Packing up and preparing to leave for London for 6 months. And, yes, seeing Pret-a-Porter at Christmastime right before I got on a plane for London. I loved it, and the music was my soundtrack through the Tube.
1994 was a good year, a happy year of college and friends and starting to grow-up, and the beginning of leaving things behind.
Come see my blog - I found you on The Girl Who.
Lyvvie,
Yes, indeed, Sheryl Crow's first album came out in the summer of 1994.
I distinctly remember bopping my head to "All I Wanna Do" in the car in the last summer weeks.
Fourth Fret,
I understand your feeling about the storm after the calm wiping out memories. I am that was at times about events that immediately preceded the year of my father's death (obviously, a much a more personal tragedy than the horror of OKC in 1995).
And, EDW, will definitely check out your blog.
Thanks to the three of you for splendid detailed posts. I will do more "Proustian Years in Review," if for no other reason than I love tracking down the small details of my memory. And last night I boasted to my partner that I'm sure I could recall the siginificant details of every year of my life from 1980 onward.
We'll see.
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