wandering, results, nostalgia

I'm wandering in the tubes of the Internet waiting for the election results to come in, but of course nothing so far.

I come across this Google maps subsite that does a good job on finding your nearest polling place. So I go along and put in my old address, from where it accurately pinpoints the very place I cast my first vote as a young and responsible American. It was in a local high school within a stone throw from my old apartment. I voted twice there 7 or 8 years back.

Thanks to "street view", I am able to walk the virtual streets of Brooklyn. Boy! Can one be drown to death in nostalgia?

There was this place we used to live in a townhouse on the second floor. The subway track is inches in front of our front windows. They would shake when trains pass. A karaoke bar right under. We used to get free drinks for putting up with the noise, and that the co-owner and I went to the same university. A liquor store 3 doors down has Japanese sake. We made our "atsukan" without knowing how. A laundromat across the street I met a dark Scandinavian girl who worked there part time, folding and doing people's laundry for a fee. I kept going back even after we moved away. My out-of-job friend would give me a lift there once a week since I didn't have money for a car. I promised her I would make time to visit. But I lied. I'm sorry.

We used to discuss petty things like weather and snooker, but soon we started talking about more serious issues like politics, wars, and unemployment. I thought we had made an interesting connection spanning those boring hours looking at machines spin.

We watched the first broadcast of the Iraq war in "SWC laundromat" when my damp laundry was tumbling in the dryer. There was a large TV tuned on something like MSNBC at night. It was almost 6 years ago. I told her I would be in Japan for a while and hopefully we can catch up soon enough. She had a boyfriend who shot a mean 9-ball pool game, had his own expensive cue, and a cold attitude. We kept in touch through emails but eventually the emails turn annual, finally there was no more.

After these 6 years I have arrived, with my little success, in my own peaceful corner, remote to all those memories.