When does the place that you live in begin to feel like home? Does it happen after you unlock the door a certain number of times? Or when it becomes familiar? When you hide yourself from the world in it? When some kind of crazy story or unforgettable moment happens in it? When you learn your postal code?
When does the place that you live take on more than just the place where you sleep every night, that you have to clean and where you lug your groceries too?
This is one of the things that I'm wondering about tonight.
The other thing that I'm wondering about tonight is tattoos. I've stumbled across the thought again tonight that tattoos are simply stories. Personal stories usually. And also usually stories that only the bearer of them usually understands. This is interesting because most people when they tell stories want people to understand them - it almost seems like people with tattoos are announcing that they have a story that you the random bystander do not understand. I think that's really cool. I think that it's cool that there are secret stories in the world. It reminds us of how much we don't know about a person, or people in general. And that there's always something more to someone.
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"You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your shit, that idea of home is gone [...] You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place."
ReplyDeleteyou have that in quotations so where did you get that from?
ReplyDeleteHe got it from Garden State.
ReplyDeleteThe word verification was "porewit." It sounds like some sort of hilariously bad insult.
ReplyDelete