And I feel so much depends on the weatherI have the remote in a deathgrip, heart locked down, brain switched off as Jacob's swagger of a third incarnation (after God. After Bridget.) fills the screen in the theatre. Matt is rapt, watching Jacob sing in his STP cover band, watching him work the crowd, watching him find the camera and then address it. Watching him rake his hand through his hair, lean way out over the crowd and act so not-preacher-like it's almost as if he was someone else completely.
So is it raining in your bedroom?
And I see that these are the eyes of disarray
Would you even care?
And I feel it
And she feels it
It was a test, if you can believe it. Matt's heard the stories, Matt's been here through someone of my worst after-flight moments, but never have I offered to show him the recordings, the videos of Jacob's band belting out Stone Temple Pilots hits while the townsfolk positively screamed for more. Jacob has always been just a name to Matt until today. But right now I feel like I could and so I did and I didn't implode or anything.
Matt sits back, sinking in the couch, his eyes wide. Wow, he whispers, looking at me.
I don't look back, I can't take my eyes from the screen. I know, right?