about today

'everyone in this place has a beard except us,' says Is. we’re in the back row. one guy has both arms above his head, index fingers poking holes in the air. his silhouette against the stage lights makes me want to cry. i check my body. not drunk, not wired, not sedated. not stressed or anxious. it’s something else, this feeling, unfamiliar.

hey, are you awake / yeah i'm right here / well can i ask you about today / how close am i to losing you / how close am i to losing.

i feel the past year surge, wordless. panic, check my assets: i’m with people i love. i’ve got a home to go to and i can pay the rent. best of all, i’m listening to matt berninger recount what it feels like to be just this side of total breakdown, and come out singing.

leave your home / change your name / live alone / eat your cake … hangin' from chandeliers / same small world / at your heels

it’s happiness i’m feeling. i know clearly that the sky will not fall down. even if it starts pouring with rain inside the palais right now, we’ve nailed this moment, The National and me.

all the very best of us / string ourselves up for love