the past four years
what do we do with all these memories?
The past four years in new york...
Today (May 3, 2026 sunday), I went to olive tree writing club and coastal jams open mic. These two have been a grounding scene for me in my early years of living in new york, but in the past year or two, I left both scenes. I found myself not as engaged, drifting away, searching for something else. I started to want to write music instead. I wanted to do something more than just writing. I wanted to find a higher calling. I wanted to move on to bigger things, and I was growing older! I felt like changing.
And I did. I went out of my way to dip my toes into other scenes, focus on “work” more. I had more important things to build now! I was putting my energy into building a consumer app in the real music industry. I spent all my evening times following designers on instagram, tpot, substack. I was trying to have taste. I was bound to be a person with higher experience, higher aspiration, but I began to judge them too.
Last night, I went to hex house for a friend’s birthday. It was basically a gathering of blooming creative technologists. I’ve been an observer for a while, never fully involving myself in the scene, but by this time I was quite accustomed to the people. A few of them demoed their projects in progress, and to another person, they were all very inspiring and more motivating. I tried to make conversation happen with new people but found my voice constrained. I then saw a few younger guys come in late in high energy, and I found myself remembering how I ran around the city with a few close friends as the center of the party. in the crowded dance bars, at coveted concerts, at art spaces of persona in dumbo.
When I went to olive tree today, I tried to write about how to live on with all these memories. I wrote about forgetting. Maybe we have to forget these memories to move on. I’ve been seeing a lot of stories about it; Laurie Anderson tells a story about a story that we must actually forget some parts of it in order to rediscover the story. Cinema Paradiso’s heartwrenching ending scene pans to the old Alfredo insisting the boy moving to the city to never turn back into the past days, never give into nostalgia. The ending scene of the Drama also mandates the two newly married couple to forget all that’s happened to move forward anew again. It seems like the only way to live on sometimes is to forget.
Then I went to coastal jams to help host the open mic but sat myself amongst the audience. My lifelong friends, cofounders, definitely didn’t need me; they had all the help from three other cohosts, and I merely brought a few plates to accompany the snacks. Mahir went up to introduce us, Vincent talked about how we have been hosting for over 8 years now. Of course he felt compulsed to mention this, but I ended up thinking surely, where has the time gone?
Mahir then had us sing together to warm up, a classic Justin Bieber throwback song. The guy next to me sings out loud enthusiastically, adding in “yeah”, “uh” interjections in between bars. I find myself grounding, not letting myself play in as I would have done in the past, but I dutifully sang along.
Then the next act went, subtly surprising me the depth of each performer. It isn’t the performance New York would have expected from someone, but it let in a brief encounter with his soul. Then the second act went and so on. I found myself smiling to it all, despite my sturdy presence. I awed at the simplicity of it all. And I found it tremendously beautiful and opening.
But I didn’t stay through to the end. During the intermission, two girls came up to me and mahir and introduced themselves, enthusiastically saying they just moved to the city, and asked us how did we make this all happen, and asked for my instagram to be friends. I politely declined, saying I’m not really on Instagram anymore. I talked to another older guy who accompanied a girl on the guitar. He showed me his instagram and suggested jamming at some point. I then said my goodbyes to a few friends, lingered in the cafe area, and finally left.
I didn’t know what to do after, so I walked to the little park by the highway, where someone was playing Heal the World by michael jackson on his bike speaker. I found myself singing out loud along, tearing up inside. I sat down on the bench in the sun. What in the hell did I not stay? I knew I couldn’t stay for longer; I still felt distanced from it all.
But when I came back home, I sat down on the keyboard and played a few melodies. Those old, old memories. The cold, cut piano keys. Then it all came pouring out. I let them all out as I reminisced over. Why in the hell is forgetting necessary? What are we living for? for what did we butt our heads so much in the past? we cared so much back then, but it was really nothing looking back. we really poured our hearts out then. but I found myself really hurting all over, remembering how much that cut so deeply, it all mattered so much, and how I missed how much it mattered so much back then. And all the conflicts, the enthusiasm, our collective dream, all were so, so beautiful.
We didn’t know it back then. But reflecting on it, I realized that was the biggest delight of our more youthful days — we poured our heart and soul into creating a community that we believed in, and I had departed from it in search for a more worthwhile pursuit, having drifted away without realizing how special all of this was to me.
So it all came back to me in this way. I feel like I understood the hardened old men more — Scrooge, the stoic conductor from Beethoven Virus; it was all a way to cover up deep wounds of memories would hurt to look back. But it is necessary to heal them, become soft again, open yourself to the world again.
So what do we do with our lives? We make music, we make art, we write, we tell stories, we make time to sing, and we make space to listen. And not for the sake of looking for something farther, but to see each other better here, and make moments that you will find yourself hold so dearly to. Because now is when everything matters. And this time with everyone together.
I finally pulled myself out of the pillow I cried into, and walked myself to keyboard. Then I diligently started sightreading through the book I bought a year ago and played through the sun rays setting across the room. It felt more composed, relaxed than before.
I relate to this one so deeply. Thank you for sharing your story and giving me a few moments of honest reflection. 💛🔥
This is so beautiful