Oh the crushing weight of an exceptional memory! There's a detailed, unfailing transcript of every conversation waiting And I know it's annoying But what happens in a house with the windows always open And the water always flowing and the candles always burning And the porch light always broken? And love is always looming but it's tired of your attention It feels like an excuse you use to rename old conventions I made the flyer myself -- it said “ALL ARE WELCOME” But failed to mention that strict psychic dress code Like, I remember standing out in front of the Northern After another 15-paid gig Getting harra**ed by Olympia street punks (the worst!) for looking like a hipster I wanted to be like “Man, I'm probably a couple years younger than your father And I've traded in any chance at stability for this community of people who, like Know what Black Flag is, or whatever. And look a little closer- This outfit is amazing! You think these pops of pastel play off of each other on accident?” But no, I didn't say any of that It was just another moment crystallizing Another open letter to forever Like the fast food trash on the side of the road The poorly timed reminder of home The manic rush towards anything That makes it harder for you to tell me who I am