Radio Dystopia: Pigface – Notes from Thee Underground (1994) 

Just following the Youtube algorithms this morning. Slave To the Algorithm, eh? They keep serving up the fire, I’ll stick with it. They’re usually good for a couple days before something screws up.

PIGFACE still fitting the vibe today too, so why switch up?

The heat came on last night for the first time this season so I woke to the smell of the paint and dust roasting on the radiators. There’s a strange comfort in that smell too. My old apartment had two big American Standards and the valves would tick and hiss as the steam came up and it always made it feel like home, even in those times when it felt like there was no home anywhere in the world. There were those moments. There were always those moments and they always faded too quickly, as the heat hit level and the big boiler tapped out.

Yesterday was the perfect fall day. I mentioned that the leaves change too quickly here but there were a few trees turning out like queens at the Pride Parade. Thumbs up, ladies. Thanks. There was a stiff breeze most of the day and then a brief, cold rain in the afternoon. The drops of water were icy cold and hit like needles. And yes, it felt like home. This is my time of year. The shadows go long and the ghosts start to wander. Living people start to stay inside and things are more peaceful. It’s my time.

We went and got spicy Thai food and then took a walk while the curry still boiled inside me. We held hands and laughed and went to see the Halloween house down on Albemarle Road. We embraced and kissed in the street and yes, I’ll say it again. It felt like home.

Home is a strange concept. I used to think it was a place you stayed no matter what, or a place you returned to where all your important memories live. I thought it was a place you went back to, to recharge and restore yourself. Now? Now I know that home is not where you’re from but where you are. It’s portable, like a warm coat on a cold day when you’ve got a lot to do. Home is just where you happen to be, feeling okay with things. I feel okay with things, or at least those things within me. The world is surely going to hell, and I may be going to hell too, but things are okay with me for now. Nobody ever said it all had to be greeting card pretty. In fact, it’s likely not to be pretty at all. There will be absolutely lovely moments, but that’s not the same. It’s like this album. There are some beautiful moments, like Chikasaw, but much of it is not conventionally beautiful. Conventionally beautiful is a particularly boring myth anyway, for the most part. We can all afford to branch out with our perceptions of such things.

Some of you really need to branch out some. I’m just saying.

But it’s back to the work week now and while it feels like if I only just opened up a little bit, I could write forever. It doesn’t feel ready to crack open yet though, so I may as well desist for now and just do what I get paid for.

So anyway…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s