nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

2/15/24

Brothers // Phil Cook

Savannah, GA.

A plantation styled home with a big front porch and a swing.

Golden hour.

Lavender lemonade in glasses with red and white striped straws.

Live oak that have been there for 200 years and Spanish moss swaying from the branches…tickling your heart like they would your face if they hung down far enough.

A humidity that keeps your skin plump and accentuates the freckles on your nose.

It loosens the wrinkles from your white linen dress every time you stand up from a wicker chair.

The buzz from cicadas is nearly deafening, but it’s the only sound you want filling your ears anyway.

Freshly applied lavender oil chapstick makes you want to kiss someone’s dimples.

A book rests beside you as it was the original intent for sitting out here, but sometimes it’s better to just embrace the golden light and be still.

A single strand of blond hair refuses to stop enveloping your face with each breeze, perfectly cupping your cheekbones and flittering just beneath your chin.

It is here that your eyes sparkle a little extra as you shy away and try to tuck the rebellious strand behind your ear.

Warmth.

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

2/11/22

Maggie Ray // Wesley Dean

It’s cold out, just enough for it to turn your nose a little rosy but not enough to restrain you from a night of softly lit electricity.

Walk from the car, swing open that door into The Pearl and be welcomed by the physical warmth, the communal warmth of others, and atmospherical warmth of christmas lights still up in February that produce a kind of amber glow.

Sit at the bar, ask for a shot and a beer, dealer’s choice. Gently bring that bottle up to your lips as you look around and wonder if you appear as mysterious to them as they do to you. 

Knock back that shot of Michter’s and let your insides feel that same warmth as your exterior. 

Soak up the sounds of vinyl against that needle. Why do songs of another time seem so unbelievably familiar? You’re more comfortable in the guise of something that you’re not...but maybe you can fool some into making them believe that you belong...at least for the night.

Laugh at a joke, talk to the bartender, take another sip of that light beer, feel the light of that neon sign on your skin, bounce your leg due to the nervousness of this feeling so right.

Come to the realization that you’re in some kind of euphoria.

Continue to chase the feeling.

Repeat. 

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

1/20/20

It’s not even a false nostalgia.

It happened almost a year ago.

Driving through the dirt swept plains of central Texas, attempting to reach a place called Big Bend.

You’re in the back of that van, packed to the brim with backpacks, sleeping bags, duffles, and leftover snacks to keep your stomach at bay.

That road was so straight.

Nothing on either side of you but tumble weeds, the occasional herd of cattle, abandoned oil rigs, and shacks.

There’s a strange haziness blocking the suns rays from penetrating fully.

It makes it hard to see occasionally.

Yet there’s not much you’re looking at anyway.

Just staring out the window, aimlessly, as you continuously repeat that song you discovered in Oklahoma.

Mind // Sarah Klang.

One person keeps coming to mind every time the chorus plays.

It melts you a little bit, but also causes this heaviness in you chest, a pain in your head, and a stiffness in your neck.

You shouldn’t feel like this. You’re being ridiculous. You’re hurting yourself more.

Yet you never take that song off of loop and you continue to make your stomach knot.

It’s at that time that you realize that you are merely a reflection of what’s in front of you.

Desolate.

This most disturbing part of it all is, however, that you find a comfort in it.

Your mind returns back to this experience more often than you’d think.

Why?

Why is there a solitude found in the remembrance of a time that offered so much confusion and uneasiness?

Maybe because it’s a time you felt free, oddly enough.

You knew that you had a new perspective on things and that Big Bend was going to help you facilitate that.

It was terrifying, comfortable, and irrevocably new.

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

10/13/19

The Lake Superior shoreline right now. Every maple, oak, and birch tree is completely transformed into its shades of gold, crimson, and amber. The water crashes upon the shore with greater intensity now as the temperatures continue to dip a little lower with every wave. The shining of the sun on my face is enough to keep the chill at bay, however, and gives my cheeks and nose that slight rosey-ness. I’ll look for rocks and pieces of driftwood while the loose strands of blond hair from my French braid blows gently in the wind, mimicking the ripples from that small stream that cascades through the hill and flows into the lake. My bean boots and wool socks keep my feet dry while my lined flannel covers my shoulders and oatmeal colored Henley. You’re a good 10 yards behind me, just walking slowly and soaking up every minute of this fall color that resides before us. I look back at you and can’t help but smile as I can tell you’ve been looking at me for some time. I run back to you and throw my arms around your neck, up on my tip toes, giving you the most blissful kiss I can. Your arms around my hips, hands grasping each other in the small of my back. Just stare into my eyes for a second longer, it makes the right side of my mouth turn upward as I try to hide my smile from you...it doesn’t work though. Before we know it, the sun is starting to set. I’ll take your hand in mine and guide you up the sand bank and back to the trail that leads to our cabin to grab a couple of IPAs and that blanket we bought in Charlevoix. Hurry back, we have to watch the whole sunset on the beach. Running through the woods, hand in hand, we jump down to the sand and lay out that buffalo plaid blanket so we can sit and crack open our ice cold can of strong hops. I’m sitting in front of you, between your legs with your arms wrapped around me, my free hand holding your forearm. I rock my head back into your shoulder so you can kiss me on the cheek. My chest sinks in deeper as my heartbeat grows faster from the touch of your lips on my skin. Both of our eyes close from the overwhelming amount of comfort and and undeniable happiness we get from just being close to one another. Who knew it was possible to find a soul that enriched your own so much? As the sun drops behind the horizon, so do we on our blanket until we are laying on our backs and staring at the looks of Orion. Pull me in closer, protect me from the cold and from myself.

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

9/22/19

There’s an excitement I get when you touch me.

My arms and legs get goosebumps like when a cold breeze hits your wet skin after night swimming.

I can feel my heart about to pound out of my chest when I feel your lips barely graze my neck.

I love when you hold my face with both of your hands as if I’m the most precious thing you’ve had in your grasp.

When you trace my bare back with your fingertip, up and down my spine.

And then you pull your self into me, chest to back, placing your arm around me and gently kissing my shoulder.

The way you look into my eyes when we both wake up in the morning, heads resting on pillows and my hair draping around it.

I then move myself into you so I can nuzzle my face into your chest, arms embracing me, like you’ll never let me go.

I could lay here forever, in safety and comfort, with you.

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

7/6/19

A private beach in Charlevoix.

There isn’t a soul to be found for miles besides our two heartbeats and the heartbeat of our dog we affectionately named Denver after John Denver himself.

For hours you allow me to look for petoskeys to take back to our home.

You know why I love you?

Because you get true joy out of watching me be in my element and doing something I love.

It’s the same as when I write songs and play guitar or stare out the window of our car at the passing birch trees.

And it also translates to you.

I love watching you read and sip on a glass of scotch as Denver walks over to you for a stroke on his head.

Or when you’re cooking in the kitchen with herbs and vegetables you proudly grew in our garden.

We are at our happiest when our other half is completely content.

This is why we are kindred spirits.

We are energized by the other’s calmness and stillness.

It keeps us alive when times get dark and heavy.

When I feel lost, I think of you falling asleep on my shoulder while I read a book about finding inner strength on the trail.

When you feel lost, you think of that night we had to sleep in the car during our road trip because of the steady rains hitting the PNW and how we played cards and listened to music all night.

We find each other.

We are each other.

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

5/28/19

He is so strong. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. 

He looks good in everything that he wears. I think that he looks best in a t-shirt under a worn flannel and perfectly fitting jeans. I love when the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows showing his tanned skin, slightly protruding veins and glistening glow from working out in the shed on that dining table I asked him to make. His hands are soft but rugged all at the same time. They hold me carefully but intensely. His dark stubble against his sunned cheeks make him look like something out of a Fjallraven ad. I can picture him summiting a mountain in Washington or Oregon and it inspires me.

He is so unbelievably smart. He thinks differently than everyone else and can think so critically without coming off cocky or better than anyone. He always has such great ideas; the ones that make the big difference and make you say “yes, that’s perfect”. It’s how he’s able to run his leatherworks shop making the most incredible boots, backpacks, watchbands, and journals. He’s the most amazing storyteller with a wonderful balance of humor, imagery, and intrigue. He pulls you in with every word. 

He is emotionally one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. He is tender but powerful. He has respect for me and values me as a person. He sees me as an equal but treats me like I’m the best thing to ever happen to him. You hardly see him cry so when he does, you know that it’s for something that really touched him. He’s sensitive and will always lend a helping hand. People love him for that. He’s the best neighbor, friend, family, and partner. 

Come find me. 

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

5/25/19

Do you hear that storm starting to roll in?

We better bring the fishing boat back to the dock for the day.

You only caught three walleye but it’ll be enough to feed us tonight.

Meanwhile, my journal was filled with pages of poems, drawings, and random song lyrics while I sat in the back of the boat.

The rain is starting to fall now as we idle in to our cove.

I’ll gather up the cooler and towels and make a run for the cabin while you tie up our aluminum form of freedom.

Open the screen door from the porch into our cabin with droplets all over your strong shoulders.

I’m in there turning on the burner getting ready to boil the potatoes and sauté the vegetables we brought from our garden at home.

You bring the fish to the table and begin to filet them ever so perfectly.

I’ll change quick into leggings and an oversized sweater to combat the chill imposed by the rain.

Don’t change, stay in that flannel I bought you last Christmas. It matches your eyes and you look so good in it.

We’d listen to Gregory Alan Isakov in junction with the sound of the steady rain.

There’s parts of his songs that make our eyes slowly turn to look at the other in their natural state.

His song “Words” would make me look at you longingly while you sit at the table drinking a glass of scotch and reading.

His song “The Universe” would make you look at me while I straighten up the kitchen and the living room.

We eat and talk about the day we met, the day we first kissed, and the day we fell in love.

You build a fire in the stone fireplace and I can’t help but be irrevocably entranced by you and everything you are.

We reside to the couch and each sip on our favorite scotch now.

The softest blanket rests over our laps and I snuggle my head into your chest, your arm around my shoulder.

Let’s just listen to the rain and the acoustic melodies of our favorite artists with the glow of the fire barely lighting up our faces.

I start to doze off and you kiss my head, slowly and carefully as to not wake me.

It doesn’t work. Instead I lift my head, cup your face with one hand and kiss you with everything I have.

Let’s go to bed and pull ourselves under the covers.

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

2/6/19

Want my own dog that:

loves me unconditionally

never hurts me

relies on me

needs me

brings me so much happiness

travels everywhere with me

snuggles with me under blankets

makes me laugh

fills my life with so much joy

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

1/18/19

It’s like a movie

We’re driving out west using a paper map with a car packed to its brim

We hit Utah and the sunset seems to burn oranges and ambers and golds

Those highways that go on forever, perfectly straight and barren but those mountains in the distance moving so slowly are what we’re heading for anyway

It’s getting late, let’s set up for the night

A two person tent, attempting to hammer in stakes into the dry and cracked ground

Only the dried bushes around us to give any cover

Build a small fire, that’ll help combat the desert frigidity

Have you ever seen stars like this? Why do they look so different? Why do they love this place more than home?

The darkness of the sky offers a weird feeling of being enveloped in a velvety softness only offered to those who are willing to go off the beaten path to find her

She is not for everyone, but for those who don’t actively seek her out. She hides from the masses to be discovered by the worthy

I’m thankful that she has picked us

Retreat to the tent, bundle up for warmth, invite the dog into our sleeping bag

Slowly let our breath reach a stillness of hibernation between layers of down and flannel

Pet the dog and snuggle him in close too

Only to be awoken by the penetrating brightness of that southwestern sun as it illuminates the green nylon that separates you from the mysterious landscape outside of which the darkness kept a secret until now

Step outside

Breathe in the thin air

There’s a mountain in the distance that makes you feel small, and you love that feeling

The blue skies and beaming sunshine create an illusion making you question how it could be so cold yet look so warm

Make coffee, pull out the guitar, and sing melodies without words because that’s the only way you can express anything

It gives you butterflies, creates a deepness in your chest, and forces you to close your eyes and smile so slightly as that sun floods your skin and breeze lifts your hair from your head

Take it in, love. It won’t last forever.

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

10/4/18

I just want to buy you flannels and sweaters and T-shirts from places like Fjall Raven and Filson.

I want to mess up your hair until it’s perfect and kiss your stubbled cheek.

I want to take pictures of you in your vintage Land Rover or Jeep.

I want to make you coffe or tea or whatever you drink and watch the sunrise together from our tent.

I want to canoe with you in Minnesota or Canada, somewhere away from everything else.

I have this perfect life planned out, I just want to meet you.

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

9/25/18

The spot in the woods in Porcupine Mountains.

The fog is so dense above me that everything seems to be covered in a mist.

It envelopes me in a grey delicateness, effortlessly.

The pines seemed to mimic the red woods, as if I’d ever seen them in person.

The ground is layered in the rust colored, fallen needles of the seasons prior.

They offer a softness to my blistered and utterly exhausted feet from hiking several miles to the river.

Speaking of, the river flows just to the right of the trail.

There is a small trail down to the water of which has been worn by the travelers who have come before.

Moss covered rocks surround the bank, providing a still place for me to sit, remove my wool socks, and soak my feet in the frigid temps.

I retreat back among the trees where I pitch my tent beneath the canopy presumably 70 feet above.

My winter sleeping bag is slowly unrolled atop my pad, luring me inside, yet, I still need to build my fire for the night.

Walking around, analyzing every bit of Earth below me as I look for twigs and sticks that could be even remotely regarded as kindling.

The utter dampness of everything makes getting a flame started nearly impossible, even as I nearly run out of breath trying to encourage her to come to life.

Finally, I am able to retain a small spark.

Adrenaline pumping, I reach for my pile of sticks and continue to add to the flame until I feel confident enough that I can leave its side without it disappearing on me like that one boy I thought I loved did many years ago.

The darkness is starting to roll over the trees, creating only a darker grey than what was there before.

I’m sitting on a rain-soaked log by the fire as I eat what can only be described as God’s gift to hikers (Mountain House freeze-dried lasagna).

The warmth of its pouch return my hands to their natural temperature through my fingerless gloves which still hold debris from collecting tinder.

As if my chacos weren’t already tight from my swollen feet, the need to put on fresh wool socks to protect my toes from the cooling air is enough for me to accept the slight uncomfortableness.

My insulated leggings are working nicely, but it’s my cremé henley and flannel that mimics what I would imagine the fall color of Wyoming to look like who are the true heroes. 

That and the packable jacket I told myself I wasn’t going to need.

My steaming, spotted mug of a vanilla chai tea rests on the dirt floor beside me, until I notice the tiniest of ripples on its surface.

In a slow progression, I hear small raindrops falling on the leaves around me, including a few landing on the brim of my baseball hat.

Nature gives me just enough time to bundle up my things and shove them in my tent before she starts her aquatic symphony.

I shuffle myself beneath my layers of flannel and down and just lie still, able to feel my sheer body heat begin to swell my bag in comfort.

The smell of my campfire smoking into an oblivion combined with the ever increasing fragrance of wet Earth fills my lungs with a tangible representation of nomadism and euphoria.

I allow the sound of the never-ending flowing of my river to lull me to rest.

I feel overtaken by the moment and pure exhaustion.

I am unconscious, yet more conscious than ever. 

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

9/9/18

I pictured us doing a lot of things together, like:

Waking up in a tent, wrapped in your arms, to the smell of a leftover fire and the breeze of a Michigan fall day.

Kayaking around a lake or down a river for hours, completely immersed in one another and sipping good IPAs.

Taking a road trip out west to hit all of the national parks that we wanted to. Just out on the road for a few weeks and going where the wind decides to takes us. Eating at cute diners, sleeping in motels and camping, laughing uncontrollably and listening to that playlist we made.

I still feel like something is there, you’re right, maybe now isn’t our time. I’ve never believed in the phrase “right person, wrong time” until now. It seems unbelievably relevant. 

I want to be there for you, and grow with you, and make you realize what an incredibly important and special person you are. I want to be that person for you. Please let me be that person.

There’s too many things we haven’t gotten the chance to experience yet that are in our destiny. 

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

4/3/18

Messy haired, flannel wearing, freckled faced, outdoor loving, dog owning boy where you be

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

3/20/18

That deep forest green color that ranges from nearly black to a moss green is the perfect backdrop for you. That perfectly angled jawline of yours makes my legs weak. It is perfectly outlined by your dark stubble, accentuating how strong it is and lightly fading into your weathered but perfect cheeks. The slight hint of rosacea gives you a softness to your rugged exterior. Your lips, so soft and straight, hide the most mesmerizing smile I’ve ever witnessed. The corners of your mouth turn up ever so slightly when you look at me, but its within your green eyes that you smile. Those shades of hazel, olive, and gold; they all manifest like a kaleidoscope peering into my soul. They’re so sad looking, but I love it. There’s a realness about them. They are softly cradled by your dark eyelashes and the freckles that span across your nose and onto your cheeks. Your dark and wavy hair is hidden by that rust colored beanie you use on cold mornings and late nights. It perfectly matches that steel, autumn, green, olive, and teal flannel you love so much. I’ve never seen anything fit into its surroundings so well. You blend in but stand out; have conquered it but respect it. You are one with these woods, and one with me.

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

2/19/18

That fog started to rise from the ground into the morning clouds above us. There’s a light mist in the air that fills our lungs and skin with moisture meant to rejuvenate our souls. Novo Amor plays in my head, like the soundtrack to this beautiful, moss covered forest. We both have to wear beanies for the morning chill knowing that by mid-day we’ll be striped down to a light shirt as the sun’s rays begin to peak out at us. The sound of the river next to our camp lulled me to sleep that night and gently woke me this morning. We use it to fill our canteens and cook our morning meals, including that cup of coffee I didn't know I needed so bad. My cranberry colored woolrich socks cover the bottoms of my leggings and have a slight dampness to the toes as they stretch over my chacos. I let you stoke the fire as I sip on my coffee, caught between the excitement of continuing our adventure and never wanting to leave this secluded slice of heaven. Who knew that lessening the things you have would give you so much? Who knew that the UP would touch me in such a way? It makes me feel whole, feel alive, and feel at home. 

[nostalgicfornonexperiencedthings]

12/11/17

It’s December now and all I can see out of the large cabin windows are those monstrous, snow-peaked mountains with a royal blue cast about them. The reflection of millions of snowflakes on our land light up that night sky and help fill that gap between the frozen earth and infinite stars. The horses are nothing but dark silhouettes that move about in their paddocks. Standing there in my white flannel pants, slippers, and navajo-printed cardigan I can’t seem to pull my gaze from the landscape in front of me. My loose braid with stray strands hanging around my face are only inches above my cup of coffee which rests just below my lips. The christmas lights hanging from our front porch create shadows in the foyer that dance lightly on the dark hardwood floors. In the background is an acoustic guitar version of every holiday classic. It has a warmth to it, a familiarity. The tree is decorated in ornaments that each have their own story of how they landed here in this life of ours. It is then that I turn and retreat to my leather couch to face the grand stone fireplace before me. Floor to ceiling, rock after rock, the home of these embers cannot be ignored, and is undoubtably one of the main reasons I moved out to this place. You come inside from a long day of work out on the ranch, kicking off your snowy boots and stained Carharts, your face red from the cold and the wind. You make yourself a cup of coffee. You come over to me, kiss my forehead and sit beside me. No need for any type of distraction, we can just exist and be completely content with nothing but each other’s hands to hold and the snow to watch fall from the sky. Thankful for you...and for CO.