The track "under the sky" or whatever, just catapulted me back in time and space.
I'm sitting at my desk (just a table), on the black chair I called "the executive" that I bought from a 2nd hand shop two doors down from my dad's camera shop.
I'm in my room at the Erin Farm. I'm not going to school today.
It's cold. I should go downstairs and stand by the fire box.
My feet are under the blankets of my bed at an awkward but necessary angle.
I am very alone.
I am lost.
But the song is really awesome, and my lonesome despair only makes it sweeter. I don't think music or food or anything seems as good as when you are sitting alone in a farm house miles and miles from anyone who knows your name.
I will go downstairs, make toast, and return to this song again.
I have no idea what will happen to me, besides the present, continued, which, aside from the music and the promise of toast, is allowing me to wallow at the angle I've always liked best.
The song is playing again. The toast is cracked-wheat, and it's seeds stick in the cavity I'm trying to ignore as part of my plan to redefine adulthood.
I am there. Seven years ago. I guess I'm working on my novel today. It will not succeed, but it's goal is foolish if noble -- certainly not the other way around.
Soon I will stop the music, return to the present. Where I am surrounded by love and warmth. Where music doesn't quite sound as sweet and my teeth don't ache with every bite.
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