For a few months in 2001, after moving out of a friend's house in West Philly but before I moved into my current place in Bella Vista, I shared an apartment with a guy from my improv group. We had been planning on finding a nice two bedroom apartment, but for some reason which seems ridiculous now, the best we could come up with was a one bedroom apartment that a friend was vacating. It would have been a great place for one guy, but unfortunately, we were two guys. So, one of us had to take the couch. He had a girlfriend and I only had a retarded obsessive crush on a co-worker who really valued our friendship. So, it just made sense that he should get the bedroom.

Hence, I was stuck on the couch, crying myself to sleep and listening to what I fully believe was the loudest refrigerator that has ever been built. (I think it was designed to trick burgalars into thinking they were potentially breaking into a 747's engine.) Let me tell you: when you're really feeling down about yourself, questioning your self-worth and wondering if it's even possible for anyone to love you, the best way to pick yourself up is to go home everynight and climb under the blankets on your comfortable couch.

Things stayed like that for a few months, until our lease was about to end. My roommate decided to persue the improv scene in Chicago, and I decided that there was no way I could afford the place by myself. For one full month, I had the place to myself. Even though my roommate took the television and a lot of that time was spent worrying about my impending homelessness and staring at the deathly quiet telephone, I have very fond memories of that month. I was on my own. I had a bedroom and a bed. I had a TV stand and a CD player that didn't always skip. I felt kind of sort of like an adult. I was starting to feel like maybe I wasn't completely undeserving of some affection from perhaps a girl with not-terribly-low standards. It was a good time.

Here's a song from a pretty rare Will Oldham EP called Western Music, and I must have been listening to the shit out of it at the time, because it instantly pulls me back to that one month, sitting alone in my apartment, banging on my fucking CD player so that I could hear one fucking song all the way through. (I deserved at least that.)

mp3: Will Oldham - Jump In Jump In, Come In Come In