April 08, 2002 | 11:19 AM

7AD )### Thurston St.

A house is a shell we fill with ourselves.

A house is merely a body illuminated by our design. Our clutter. Our footprints. Our paper scraps and garbage bags. Our smells and sounds. Our hair and dust and flakes of skin.

A house is animated from the inside out. We give the house its heart.

When we turn in the keys and drive away for the very last time, we leave our house behind as a soul transcends the body in death. The house grows still. It does not breathe. It has been buried in the graveyard of memory.

Someday we may drive past it again, and think to ourselves longingly,

*Sigh* That�s my old house.

But the sentiment is hollow. The house does not belong to us. It isn�t the same house at all anymore.

So what then really is a home?

Home is a metaphor for something eternal that we carry from place to place. It is something that lives within us. Each moment of our lives has many rooms, and within these rooms we seek our true nature�that which is continuously evolving and yet undeniably permanent.

�If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with!�

It is really no wonder that I have been homeless or nearly homeless or terrified in or of my various places of residence so many times. Because I am searching for this true nature of mine in all the wrong places�within four walls, or within other people.

In late of August of 2000 as I box up all my belongings, I feel an acute sense of loss mingling with giddy hopeful desperation.

This next place could be it.

This could really be the one.

And in a way it is, though not as I perceive it to be initially.

It will be anything but comfortable. It will be anything but safe. Metamorphosis never is.

This new apartment, this Allston/Brighton flat on the verge of collapse is the cocoon from which I will emerge two revolutions �round the sun later with a very different concept of what it means to be home.

Stay tuned for part the forty-seventh...

I have climbed the highest mountain

I have run through the fields

Only to be with you

Only to be with you

I have run, I have crawled

I have scaled these city walls

These city walls

Only to be with you

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

I have kissed honey lips

Felt the healing in her fingertips

It burned like fire

This burning desire

I have spoke with the tongue of angels

I have held the hand of a devil

It was warm in the night

I was cold as a stone

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

I believe in the kingdom come

Then all the colors will bleed into one

Bleed into one

Well, yes, I'm still running

You broke the bonds and you

Loosed the chains

Carried the cross

And all my shame

All my shame

You know I believe it

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

Find it by reading the SAGA from

THE VERY BEGINNING

time capsule from heaven - Sunday, Aug. 21, 2011
31 - Saturday, Mar. 15, 2008
Dead/Alive - Monday, Mar. 10, 2008
Do not trustTIAA-CREF-- they are fucking their customers - Friday, Jul. 28, 2006
Shilling - Tuesday, Jul. 11, 2006

Before After