The Decline and Fall of Western Massachusetts

This is a project that’s been floating around since my high school days in the late 80s. It’s gone under different names over the years (Belief in Fate is the one I’ve mentioned the most, dating back to 1988-89) but Decline and Fall was the title I came up with in late 1995 after the dreaded move home from Boston. It’s a title that maintains a certain Gen-X flair: it’s a riff on Penelope Spheeris’ documentary series about rock and roll excesses, The Decline of Western Civilization — itself a riff on Edward Gibbons’ The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire — but it’s also a riff on the frustration and ennui of growing up in a run-down small town that one desperately wants to escape. It’s not that I hated my hometown, I’d just outgrown it yet had to wait my turn to leave. It’s jaded humor because that’s what we Gen-Xers do best.

Mind you, this was never a project like Isaac Fitzgerald’s 2022 memoir Dirtbag, Massachusetts — interestingly a book about my same hometown, though I’ve never read it — as that is not the kind of book I want this to be. It was never going to be about partying and taking drugs and underage drinking because there’s fuck-all else to do. Sure, that definitely existed then as now, but that wasn’t my life. I did my best to avoid that because I’d seen firsthand where that road led and I was just too damned stubborn to give into it. It’s a big reason why I latched on so tightly to college radio and writing at that age; if I needed that escape, music and creativity was where I went. The depression and confusion and frustration ended up on the page, always with a soundtrack.

Decline and Fall might have started out gloomy, but as I got older and wiser — and calmer and happier — I started realizing that this story would benefit not as a dire memoir or a gloomy roman à clef focusing only on all that bad stuff (which it originally did during its Belief in Fate phase), but as a story about finding a way out of all that. Thus it’s about that brief time when I discovered college radio (and myself) and found friends that changed my life considerably. [Come to think of it, this might explain my current obsession with the manga The Fragrant Flower Blooms with Dignity which has a similar plot, in which Rintaro’s life is changed for the better when he finds his own solace of love and friendship.]

I bring this up because I’ve been thinking about finally taking it off the back burner to give it another go. Hell, I’ve even made multiple playlists for it recently! It’s become somewhat of a companion piece to Walk in Silence the book project which focuses on the ‘college radio’ music of the mid to late 80s. It’s a story idea that’s never quite completely left my mind, even despite being trunked a few times. That tells me that this isn’t merely an obsession with a half-baked idea, but an idea that needed a lot of time and distance (and maturity) between now and the time it took place. It’s no longer just a story based on vibes but one that speaks of a deeply personal moment in time.

Now, I’m hoping that it doesn’t stall again, but I’m going to be optimistic.

Unplugging

So here I am listening to the new album by London dreampop/shoegaze band deary, and it got me thinking about how waaaaaaaay back in the day, I used to listen to Cocteau Twins to allow myself a bit of a dive into another world. This kind of musical genre, with its heavy wall of reverb guitars, slow dreamlike melodies and otherworldly vocals, always brings up the same sort of imagery in my head: the sound of walking deep in the woods, far away from any other sign of civilization. Sometimes it’s dark, sometimes it’s overcast. There’s always that hint of desolation, but not necessarily in a bad way; it’s more like finding a personal moment of Zen peace.

At least that’s what used to happen back then, well before I plugged myself into the internet in the late 90s. Since then I’ve been pretending that I keep the internets and my offline brain separate, but we all know that hasn’t been happening for ages now. My brain just loves that dopamine hit, especially when it’s getting drunk on constant music listening, socializing and constant movement of thought with nary a moment’s peace. Where does the real end and the cybernetics begin at this point?

Anyway, this is not so much about unplugging as it is another chapter in me Getting Older and finally deciding to detach myself from the multiple races my head is trying to keep running. Don’t get me wrong: it wasn’t all terrible, you know. I’ve met all kinds of neat people over all those years, some brief acquaintances and some long-lasting friendships. Learned a lot of really cool things, discovered all kinds of awesome music, been inspired to write stories.

But somewhere along the line my brain rewired itself when I wasn’t paying attention and I was too lax about backing away when it became too much. Instead I did what I often did during those same teen years when I listened to that same dreamlike music: I spiraled instead. I dove in to see just how far and how long I could keep taking it all in. And I had one hell of a voracious mental appetite.

So here I am, older and (hopefully) wiser, finally deciding it’s time to unplug from all that nonsense. It’s been an interesting run, but it was full of mental and emotional exhaustion. I’m not completely disconnecting from the world, of course. Just no longer spending every waking moment at top volume. I’ve distanced myself from a lot of things over the last couple of years already, so this is nothing new. It’s just deciding to go a bit further and relocating that mental and emotional Zen peace, and making that the new norm.