i love it when you read to me

i dont really know what the deal is with peter gabriel. is he someone i shouldnt mention i really, really like? does this fall under the same rules as admitting that the first song i ever memorized was rod's stewart's hot legs?
ah well. too late.
i love this song, just re-found it.
The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing
But I
I love it when you read to me
And you
You can read me anything
The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental
Some of it is just really dumb
But I
I love it when you sing to me
And you
You can sing me anything

its simple, and playful, almost childish, and isnt trying to be anything its not
and by about line three the pit of my stomach hurts
and by line six i feel heavy
and then i have to sit down and miss...

ugh. fuck that.

im so tired of that.
why has every part of my life moved on and somehow my heart is still back there, like a stubborn, overtired child at the grocery store, arms crossed, sitting in the aisle somewhere between the peanut butter and the quinoa, refusing to move.
im sick of feeling disembodied. sick of missing... a part of myself.

anyway.
tonight i went to dinner with my dad. and can i just say i love my dad. i forget until im around him how much i miss my pops. and i decided tonight id brave the topic of the bookstore/diner/artspace so after i blathered on for half an hour nervously he says:
hmm. sounds a lot like something ive been thinking about doing.

WHAT?!
put it this way. i have a new contemporary art talent scout/burger taster.
could this really happen? in this lifetime?