Welcome home

This song crops up on my Pandora station once in a while, and it’s haunting me.

"Welcome Home," Radical Face

Sleep don’t visit, so I choke on sun, and the days blur into one
And the backs of my eyes hum with things I’ve never done

Sheets are swaying from an old clothesline
Like a row of captured ghosts over old dead grass
Was never much, but we’ve made the most
Welcome home

Ships are launching from my chest
Some have names but most do not
If you find one, please let me know what piece I’ve lost

Peel the scars from off my back
I don’t need them anymore
You can throw them out or keep them in your mason jars
I’ve come home

All my nightmares escape my head
Bar the door, please don’t let them in
You were never supposed to leave
Now my head’s splitting at the seams
And I don’t know if I can

Here, beneath my lungs
I feel your thumbs
Press into my skin again

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Road block

I just reserved season one of "The Mary Tyler Moore Show" on DVD from the library. I keep hearing and reading comparisons between that show and "30 Rock," so I will see for myself. But not for a bit, since I am number seven on the waiting list.

Waiting for me at the library now are two books on script writing. I’m picking them up on my way home, and then I am going to a progressive dinner, as hosted by Joe and Jessie’s church. Should be fun. After that, I am staying up as late as I have to for part two of three of the video I am making. However, I got so excited about it that I sort of forgot the fact that I no longer have a computer to edit it on. That will hold my plans up for a bit.

I wonder how long it would take to upload a YouTube video with my dad’s dial-up connection this weekend?

Ugh.