Everyone has an idea of what a home is I guess. Maybe from your childhood, or someone else’s family, or maybe you just intrinsically know. For awhile I thought I knew what a home was. I would always make places nice, though in truth the style I use was stolen from a good friend of mine that I met when I was fourteen. My home vibe is stolen in affect! Never thought about it like that before. Or is that what everyone does? Steals some else’s idea.
I have lived in, let’s see, [ sound of me counting out loud on my fingers ] twenty different places. That is to say I have had twenty different homes, in twenty different locations. A lot of moves, some I wanted to make, some I was forced to make. Which one felt most like home? I tricked myself into believing a couple of them felt like home for awhile, well maybe only one in actuality. But like I say I tricked myself. All of them where fine – Angel Town in London in the 80’s was pretty harsh – but most were fine. Some, amazing!
But I realise now, that to start with, I was not sure, and maybe I am still not sure what a home is. I certainly never thought of my parents house as home. In fact I couldn’t leave fast enough. No idea why, except maybe one thing. That I have come to realise that home is not a place for me, it’s a feeling. It’s a feeling of love, and whenever I feel love, I am at home no matter where I am. Unfortunately, due to my original home, and maybe the lack of love in it, I lack the normal ‘self love’, therefore mostly feel homeless.
I don’t own my own home, I rent. And I could never be jealous of those that do. But I would say I do envy those that have that feeling. Walking through the door and knowing you are home. My homes to me, are more like garages, where I service this animation that I am wearing, as it seems to need nourishment. But it never feels like home. It’s warm, it’s good, it’s nice. But something is missing. Home is not a place for me it’s a feeling. I wrote a song with that title recently, will I record it? Probably not. Why would I?