First off, it’s raining. The only time that’s good is when you’ve got nothing to do and a mattress on the floor and your beloved in it. Otherwise, it’s raining. My hair will suck all day and my dog will prefer to crap inside.
Second, it’s my nation’s birthday. That’s like having to go to a party for your asshole boss. The only upside is the fireworks, but um it’s raining.
So I summon the list of things that might make me feel better—clean stuff and put it in right places, run to China, buy something, paint something, read something, listen to music, have a chat with a real friend [laugh or cry]. The list gets better as it goes, I realize, the further it gets from “productivity”. But it gets worse as it goes too, because it gets more dependent on the existence of other people. I’ve never been very good at finding others whose presence makes me feel better rather than worse, which is why I’ve made some people from scratch (thank god). I want a heart that is shaped like a place into which I can let myself with the key that has my name on it and I can set myself down and feel ‘welcome’ wrap around me like a warm good smell. Then I’ll know I’m home.
Damien Rice – I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For (U2 cover/Blower’s Daughter mash-up)
