Woke up in my childhood bedroom. Needed to hear a song. Picked this one.

It’s soothing, with a cyclical melody, gentle picking, vivid descriptors.

“The boat that failed it’s only sail
is burning in the river
It’s heating up the water mains
while the rest of the house just shivers
It’s sinking fast
straight through the grass
A buoyant mask
A medical grasp
And that….

Was all I had to give her

But I will take my hand’s mistakes
Stay afloat in
this flushing river
With the smell of your soul
and fix the bridge that bowed
from the blows that age delivers


But I fear collapse
as your weight will pass
You know I love you more than you will know

Something
is coming for us
It’s coming through the vents
For the worst and best.

And so it seems,
Like old beliefs,
We’re struggling in the water
Fishing for a fish that knows
A way to save the other

Don’t turn blue it’s turning the room
As it spins the violence
Coats the walls in bother
Carousels and comet tails are somewhere in this river
Lonely as lost my mind”

~The River 
Cassino, Kingprince
Closing out what’s become one of my favorite albums of post-college life, this is a song I play to steady, to center, to grab onto. Tonight, after this time-warp trip full of friends and alcohol, the need to get over myself is less than normal. Too worn out to care. 
Here, surrounded by ballerina calendar photos and the wrought iron crosses all I can think of is who I used to be, and how I feel so much more myself at home. Home’s not here anymore; it’s not anywhere exactly, but it’s not here, the place I ran from the first chance I found.