you slip your hand in mine, in the distance the train's last call

is it stupid that my guitar is my first love? that i can neglect it for weeks on end, and after a slight tuning temper tantrum, it forgives me my neglect and taking it for granted? that it lets me forget the toils and drudge and soar into the world of sound? that it forgives me my failings and continues to resonate beneath my awkward fingers until they get to know how to love the care for the strings once again?

i've talked a lot about how i write deplorable music. luckily other people write amazing songs. i find there is such solace and comfort in those songs that are like returning home. dylan's "you're gonna make me lonesome", mitchell's "both sides now", wilcox' "catch me if i try", williams' "after all", mondlock's "the kid".

and there are the new songs. the ones that fill you with the thrill and excitement. the ones that don't quite fit as you learn how to act around each other, when to speak and when to hold your tongue. those songs like duvekot's "reasonland", teitur's "i was just thinking".

i thought tonight was for knitting.

it turns out it was for slipping back into my own skin after weeks of wandering without it.