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Saturday, September 3, 2011

YOU'RE THE APPLE OF MY EYE,
GIRL I'VE NEVER LOVED ONE LIKE YOU.

Fuck it, I know quoting lyrics ain't cool but goddamn it does Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros have some good things to say in that song. I saw them at Bluesfest this summer and it was such an ill show, they were obviously high as clouds the whole time but i got so much more into them. I even got a signature from the trumpet player, it's hanging on my wall.
That song is so goddamn true, too. Home, it seems, ain't no place at all. Home is a person. Home is the person you want to go home to, and I know that's fuck all cheesy but it honestly seems to me, knowing that I've known people like that, that it's the most honest definition of home to me. I've been more at home in a stranger's house than in my own, because of the people I was there with.
And I guess it's never just one person, it's any and all people who make you feel that way. That make you feel like yeah you could take on the world right now for sure but this couch is really comfortable and the kettle just got put on and it could wait until after this chapter and the person sitting there agrees and maybe you go out and save the day but maybe you don't and either way you know that you have that option.
and yeah it might just be delusion but some days it isn't, because to be home you have to love the people in that home, and love it goddamn turns you into a superhero, it helps you scale buildings and fly into the stars even when you're just sitting there talking because when you talk to someone you love you're everywhere in the world because the whole world is right there.
and no i'm not just talking about romantic love even though romantic love is the most intense and passionate and agonizing of the loves, but any love can make you feel that way. and i've loved a hell of a lot and i'm not sure yet if coming home to my new apartment is coming home yet but it's feeling more and more like it just because i love my roommate and my cat and my stack of books and the posters on my wall but half of those are memories and emotions pressed into books and onto paper and hell they don't compare to the real interpersonal love.
and i don't know how to properly state an ounce of my emotion but however much i can put out is enough and goddamn i want to know everyone right now. i want to hear everyone's innermost secrets and put them on a goddamn billboard next to their names and phone numbers so that when anyone gets lonely at night they can look out their window and know someone so deeply and intimately that they could talk for hours they could talk forever they could count the seconds between when the sun rises for one and then the other and with this they could determine the exact distance between their lonesome beds and with this everything feels a bit less bad, because no matter how far away you are from someone your footsteps can carry you to their front step and maybe it'd take an hour or a day or a month but eventually you'd collapse on their porch and they'll take you in and you'll have hot chocolate and later that night you'll get engaged and it's perfection for that one night but knowing it's perfect that one night is enough to know that this is a perfect world, that this is the most ideal of worlds, that no matter the fact that the rebels are racist douchebags they still take care of their kids and sure maybe no ones perfect and you can either be good great or good small but it seems to me that everyone's great somehow and i'm sorry if that's idealistic of me but hell i can't help myself for some reason tonight.
i want to make out with the setting sun.
i want to count footsteps.