This Must Be The Place

You know, I've had a scattered lot of music references I've been wanting to write about. I have not been listening to any Talking Heads, but what the hey, let's dedicate a little press to the Talking Heads.

"This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody)" is one of those brilliant moments where the song's anxious, cynical narrator discovers a sense of hope. David Byrne has admitted that this is totally a love song, mind you in the Stop Making Sense concert, he sings it to a lamp. A freaking lamp.

Anyways. the song talks a lot about "home." 

"Home is where I want to be, but I guess I'm already there... I guess that this must be the place." 

I GUESS. Because David Byrne couldn't possibly write a comforting love song without expressing some casual sense of unsurety. At the end of the day, neither could I.

I didn't do a lot today. Mostly ran errands. I  bumped into a bunch of people I knew. I went to the temple. I went for a run. I later found myself taking the long way home; driving around the neighborhood at night in my heated car with some Superchunk cranked up (the band name speaks for itself). I had a heartwarming moment to myself. Kind of a light bulb moment. 

It was kinda like... 

[My voice suddenly develops a dream-like reverberating quality as spacey/bloopy sounds segue into the "stream-of-conscience" segment of this blog. It's earlier tonight, I'm driving around, Superchunk cranked up.] 

This is it. This must be what people talk about when they talk about doing something they love. Or being in love. This sense of familiarity and excitement. Even the temperature just feels so correct.

People say there's no greater joy than starting your own family. Perhaps I just so rarely allow myself to experiment the joys of life beyond stuff like this, I've just never even considered it. This place where I am right now, perhaps it's my home. This is where I reside; mentally, emotionally. If I could change anything about this, I'd just add some friends. But that's all. I'm cool with company. 

I'm not sure what people are talking about when they talk about confident relationships or whatever, but it can't be too different from this. Dear God, if I ever get married, please send me someone who'll drive around with me and listen to Superchunk at maximum volume. Amen.

[Spacey/bloopy sounds returns. We are no longer in the car, but back to normal blog world.]

...Kinda like that. 

So I realize that some of my thoughts written above are flat-out ridiculous. And maybe the "Dear God" sentence is unrealistic wishful thinking. I realize all this. Now here are some things you all ought to realize:

I usually like where I live. I don't always like what I'm doing. I don't always like myself. But for a moment, I liked all of the above. Heck, for most of today I liked all 3 of these things. This is rare territory for me. If you can enjoy yourself, who you're with, where you are, what you're doing, even the purpose behind it all... you're there, man. You're home. At the LDS temple, at the Smith's grocery store on 400 N, running down Canyon Rd, playing guitar, it all counts. 

But I ought to wrap this up. As that Talking Heads song suggests, "The less we say about it, the better."

I GUESS I found some of pieces of my home today. I should go home more often.